


Shifters of the Shire

by lindajenner



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-10-30 23:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 125,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10886856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindajenner/pseuds/lindajenner
Summary: Valinor was boring, Boring, BORING.A chat with a trio of unknown elves has Bilbo and Frodo waking up (naked) in Bag End.With Sam, Merry and Pippin, they now have to do the Quest for Erebor AND the the Quest for the Ring. All while trying to herd a pack of shape-shifting hobbits and keep the Company of Thorin Oakenshield alive.Bilbo's going to need every bit of skill he learnt during his long life. Frodo's going to need every bit of patience he ever had.





	1. Valinor was Boring

**Author's Note:**

> Have figured out how to add links, if you hover the cursor over an underlined link, it will show the translations.  
> Yay me!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Frodo discuss their regrets  
> A Trio of unknown elves join them  
> A Hypothetical quest is planned (kind of)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor additions - 21-Aug

Valinor was **_boring_**.

That was the conclusion that Bilbo and Frodo came to **_and_** in less than a week. The elves seemed to revel in that fact, but for an old hobbit made young again and a wounded hobbit made pain-free?

Boring.

The only entertainment to be had, was the pranks that Elrond’s sons, Elladan and Elrohir, got up to. They and the hobbits were testing the waters of a prank war. The hobbits had, only just this morning, placed bars of soap containing herbs that on contact with skin would turn the skin a bright purple, in the elves’ private bathrooms. Harmless but very visible. They expected retaliation from the twins in a few days.

For now the two Baggins men sat and watched the waves beating on the sands. It was so exciting…not.

Bilbo saw out of the side of his eye, Frodo reach up and rub his left shoulder.

“Does that still hurt? I thought coming here was supposed to fix that?” Bilbo asked, curious.

“What?... Oh… I didn’t realise I **_was_** rubbing it. Sorry, Uncle Bilbo.” Frodo froze, his hand still on his shoulder, he pulled his hand away and looked at it, puzzled.

“Frodo… drop the uncle bit, please. We’re both here in Valinor, age means nothing in Valinor, lad. You know that. Besides, right now, we look much the same age, maybe I look a few years older… maybe.”

“Sorry, **_Bilbo_** , but the look on your face every time I do, is worth it.” The blue eyed hobbit grinned, unrepentant.

**_“Brat.”_ **

“Yep, and proud of it. The only other brats around here are Elladan and Elrohir.”

As they talked, Bilbo absently watched a trio of elves walk the shoreline in their direction.

“You didn’t answer, you know. Does it still hurt?” Bilbo wasn’t letting Frodo distract him from his question.

“No, not really. Oh, sometimes it **_aches_** , Galadriel said it’s something called phantom pains, it’s to do with nerve memory. The nerves still remember hurting and tell the muscles that, and that’s what I feel or something like that. The same for my finger. You would think I should be used to it by now, but Galadriel says there’s warriors that lost fingers and limbs and they still feel phantom pains for **_hundreds_** of years. Not looking forward to that, Bilbo.”

“Oh, lad. I wish I could have spared you that.”

“Not your fault, Bilbo. None of it is.”

“But I kept the Ring **_hidden_** for decades.”

“You kept it **_safe_** for decades.”

“Gandalf still berates himself for not figuring it out sooner, you know and so do I.”

“Oh, come **_on!_**  What would you have done, if you knew? What **_could_** you have done? I mean **_really_** , Bilbo?”

“I don’t know, Frodo. But there must have been _**something**_ I could have done.”

A new voice entered the conversation.

“Pardon me, but…? What are you talking of? Regrets have no place in Valinor, that’s what the Valar created it for, to be a place to let go of your sorrows and regrets.” One of the elves Bilbo had watched earlier spoke.

“The Valar might be powerful, they might be amazing, they might have made this wonderful place, they might have created us, they might even be able to twist time, but the one thing they _**can’t**_ do is stop us from feeling the way we feel.” Bilbo said with a little bit of snark in his voice. Frodo only grinned, these three elves were getting off lightly, telling Bilbo what he can and can’t do? Yeah, that doesn’t work all that well.

“Hmm.” Another of the elves said. “What **_do_** you regret?”

“What do I regret? I regret that I kept the One Ring for decades and then just _**dumped**_ it, and all the problems that went with it, on poor Frodo.”

“What would you change? Looking back, knowing what you know now. What would you change?” The first elf asked, sitting down beside them.

“Who are you? If we’re going to discuss soul-gutting hypotheticals, then we should at least know who we’re talking with.” Bilbo asked as the other two elves also lowered themselves to the grassy knoll.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t think about that. Call me Kas, this is Rien and our slightly sulky friend here it Manni. Ignore him, his day isn’t going the way he wanted it to.”

“So, now you know who _**we**_ are and we know _**you**_ are obviously the Hobbits and as there’s only the two of you, it’s not hard to work out which is which. You called him ‘Frodo’, so that makes you, ‘Bilbo’. Right?” Rien added.

“Right.” Bilbo sighed.

“So?... What would you change?”

“Really? I think the _**biggest**_ change would be, to not wear the damned thing. That and after Erebor, I wouldn’t have come straight back to the Shire. I would have nagged Gandalf into taking me to Lothlorien and asked Galadriel for help.”

“So, if you got to do this all over again, that’s what you’d do?”

“Pretty much.”

“If you’re doing all over again, you’re not going with out me.” Frodo butted in.

“Frodo…”

“No. Of the two of us, which one was there when it was destroyed? **_I_** was the one to bargain with Gollum,  ** _I_** was the one to cross Mordor, **_I_** was the one to carry that blasted Ring to Mt Doom. You _**don’t**_ go _**without**_ me.” Frodo demanded.

“All right, lad, all right. You can come, too. On our _**hypothetical**_ journey, that is. Anyway it wasn’t just **_you_** , you had Sam, too, remember.” Bilbo grumped.

“Oh, Sam, my brave and loyal Samwise. He’d never left the shire before, you know that? Gandalf told him, ‘don’t you loose him, Samwise Gamgee’ and he never did. Not even when I lost myself. Sam always stood by me, he brought me home, Bilbo, without Sam, I would have never have made it. There is so much more to Sam than ever met the eye.”

“Would you take Samwise Gamgee with you?” Kas asked curiously.

Bilbo laughed.

“If we took Sam, we’d **_have_** to take Merry and Pippin, too.”

“Why is that?” Rien asked.

“Merry and Pippin might look like scatterbrained idiots, but their hearts are as big as Arda. There’s no way they’d let us do all again without them.” Bilbo said.

“Particularly, if we’re going on Bilbo’s quest first. They loved to hear his tales of the trolls and the dragon. They’d ask for it every time they saw him. They both fought in the Battle of Pelennor, you know? Merry rode with Éowyn from Rohan, he distracted the witch-king giving Éowyn time to stab him in the face, killing him. Pippin fought as part of the tower guard, he saved Faramir from his father trying to burn him alive.” Frodo explained.

“You know, I think they’d like meeting Beorn the best, they loved the idea of the skin-changers.” Bilbo mused.

“Oh, yes.” Frodo laughed. “Whenever we got into a tight spot, one of them would be bound to say, ‘if we were like Mr Bilbo’s skin-changer and could change into -’, they thought it would be so handy at times, to be a weasel, a wolf, a bird or a cat.”

“-or a warg. Now _**that?**_ , that would have been handy a few times. A huge warg or one of the giant Eagles? Yeah, that would have been handy.” Bilbo finished.

“A Giant Eagle is a bit of an ask, Bilbo. They are Manwë’s creation, after all.” Chided Kas.

“Not to mention the issue of size, Bilbo. There’s a lot of difference between a hobbit and a Giant Eagle. Where is the extra weight going to come from?” Frodo asked.

“Alright, my boy. Forget the Giant Eagle, but the rest?” Bilbo conceded.

“Yeah, they would have **_so_** been handy.” Frodo agreed.

“Alright. So, to sum up. You’d both do it again, starting before Bilbo’s quest, you’d take Samwise Gamgee with you, as well as Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. You’d like very much to be able to shape-shift, but into what animals?"

"Hmm... What do you think, Frodo?"

"Um...into a Pine Marten, an Owl, a Wolf, and a Hawk for us, but what about you, Bilbo?.

"Are all of you to be able to shift into all the animals, or one each?” Kas asked.

“Oh, one each, I think. Frodo?”

“Yeah, one each. Pine marten for Pip, Sam’s definitely an owl, Merry’d make a good wolf.” Frodo told them.

“Frodo is like a hawk, at times and I’d quite like to be a lynx.” Bilbo added.

“And the Warg?” Kas questioned.

“Oh, that’s one for all of us. I think we’d make a good pack, I mean, we all consider the others family and get along well, together.” Frodo informed the elves.

“Right. Is there anything we missed?” asked Rien.

“Only…, if we’re doing my quest again, then it would be good to get there a month or so earlier, Gandalf once told me that he came to speak to me _**three weeks**_ before all those dwarrow turned up on my doorstep. If I’d actually been home that day, I might have had some warning, might have been able to be prepared. Instead I ran out after them, in my highday best and with pack full of naught but useless rubbish.” Bilbo added, laughing.

“And if we were shape-shifters, a month or so would be good, give us a chance to learn how to shift when we want and how to control it, wouldn’t do to be in the middle of a fight and shift from a warg to an owl, now, would it?” Frodo requested.

“Oh, and we should all start at Bag End, of course,… just give Frodo and I a few days before Sam and the others get there. There’d be so much to do.” Bilbo laughed.

“So, starting at Bag End, say the 1st of April 2941? A few days before Samwise arrives, before Meriadoc and Peregrin arrive. The five of you can shift into a Pine Marten, an Owl, a Hawk, a Wolf, a Lynx and five Wargs. How does that sound?” Kas asked laughingly.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. Frodo?” Bilbo cocked his head.

“Yeah, I’m good with that.” The younger hobbit agreed.

“So… how do you feel about starting tomorrow?” Rien asked.

The old adage popped into Bilbo’s head. _Yesterday is always been and done, today is a present, a gift to live, and tomorrow is the day that never comes._

Bilbo and Frodo looked at each other and nodded.

“Tomorrow is fine.” They said together.

“Best get a good night’s sleep, then.” Rien said with a grin.

“You’re going to need it.” Kas added.

“We shall leave you to your farewells.” Manni spoke for the first time.

The three elves rose to their feet, bowed slightly and wandered away.

“Well, that was different, lad.”

“Yeah, just a bit. Still... it was more interesting than watching the waves.” Both hobbits laughed and lay back in the grass.

“Bilbo, Frodo?” a voice drifted down from the rise above them, when the two hobbits leaned back and looked up they saw Elladan and Elrohir. Bright purple faces looking more than slightly worried.

“Elladan, Elrohir. What can we do for you?” Bilbo asked, brightly.

“Why would Lord Manwë say ‘they would leave you to your farewells’? What were they talking about? Where are you going?”

“Manwë?” Bilbo asked, confused.

“Yes, Manwë. When we saw you talking to Lord Manwë, Lord Tulkas and Lord Lorien Irmo we hung back, they’re not real pleased with us at the moment. One of our pranks went wrong and upset Lord Irmo’s wife, Lady Estë, so we’ve been keeping out of their way as much as possible.”

As Elladan prattled on, Bilbo and Frodo looked at each other in horror. They’d just told Manwë, himself, that they wanted to do the Ring stuff all over again and he’d agreed.

“Oh dear.” Said Frodo.

“Oh dear?” Asked Bilbo. “ ** _Oh dear!?_** We told Manwë we wanted to do it again. ‘ _ **Oh dear**_ ’, doesn’t cover it.” Bilbo groaned.

“Do what again?” asked Elrohir.

“Frodo and I were talking about the Ring and how we both had regrets. Those three turned up and asked what we regretted and we told them. Kas, hmm… Kas has to be... Tulkas. Tulkas asked if we’d to it again and we said ‘yes’. Then we added Sam, Merry and Pippin.” Bilbo explained.

“And I added shape-shifting into a pine marten, an owl, a hawk, a wolf and a lynx and Bilbo added wargs to that. So Rien... is Rien Lord Irmo Lorien?, anyway, he agreed to that. Then Bilbo said we should get there early enough to make plans and I said we needed to be able to control our shifts.” Frodo added.

“Then Tulkas agreed and Irmo asked if tomorrow was good to start?, and suggested a good night’s sleep. _**That’s**_ when Manwë said they’d leave us to our farewells.” Bilbo finished.

“ _ **Oh, dear.**_ ” Elladan whimpered, Elrohir opened and closed his mouth a few times before he got himself under control.

“I think we should go see Adar.” He finally said. “This could be a problem.”

 


	2. Oh, Dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond is horrorfied  
> Gandalf is amused.  
> Galadriel is sympathetic.  
> Bilbo and Frodo are certain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additions and edits - 21-Aug

_“Then Tulkas agreed and Irmo asked if tomorrow was good to start?, and suggested a good night’s sleep. **That’s** when Manwë said they’d leave us to our farewells.” Bilbo finished._

**_“Oh, dear.”_ ** _Elladan whimpered, Elrohir opened and closed his mouth a few times before he got himself under control._

_“I think we should go see Adar.” He finally said. “This could be a problem.”_

 

Elrond listened quietly to the pair of hobbits tell their tale, he sat back looking at them with much the same expression of horror that had been on their own faces when the twins told them who they’d them who they’d been talking with. The serenity of the garden was at odds with the atmosphere pervading it.

“What do you plan to do?” The twins’ father asked in a faint voice.

“I’ve no idea.” Bilbo replied.

“ ** _We’ve_** no idea.” Frodo corrected the older hobbit.

“We’ve no idea.” Bilbo sighed.

“Oh, dear.” Elrond also sighed.

“Oh, dear, seems to be the phrase of the day, today. Elrohir is the only one not to have said it so far.” Bilbo made a frustrated sound in agreeance with Frodo’s comment.

“Well, it bears saying again… ** _Oh dear_**.” Elrond muttered. “Why come to me?”

“No idea, old friend. Elrohir made that call.” Bilbo smiled for the first time since the Valar left them.

“It’s what you do, when you can’t solve a problem on your own.” Frodo answered. “You ask your elders.” It was a subtle dig at the fact that he was the only one present that was under one hundred years of age.

“Brat.” Bilbo caught the dig, even if it went over the elves’ heads.

“This **_is_** a little outside my scope as a father, Frodo.” The older elf censured the young hobbit.

“But you’re the only one who knows someone returned after death.” Frodo replied. “Glorfindel… Remember him? Should we ask him to join us? Would he be able to advise us?”

“I think that, if the Valar wanted this known by others, they wouldn’t have approached you without witnesses. The only ones I am certain you need to discuss the matter with, are Gandalf and Galadriel.” Elrond pointed out.

“Agreed.”

“Naturally, we would tell them.” Both hobbits spoke at the same time.

“Adar? You weren’t very helpful to Thorin Oakenshield when Gandalf brought them in the back entrance. How can they avoid that, this time?” Elladan asked, both twins were worried about the things that could go wrong and hobbits, while not the smallest of the Wee Folk, were far from being large.

“Hmm…” Elrond hummed as he paced around the paths of the garden, if not for the expression of concern on his face, one could assume that he was no longer aware of the conversation taking place.

“What can we do? How can we help?” Elrohir asked.

“I’m not sure you can.”

Sounds of denial met Bilbo’s statement.

“Lads.” He waited until they quieted. “I mean that literally. I’m not sure there **_is_** anything you **_can_** do to help. We hobbits will be travelling with a group of suspicious dwarrow that are not likely to accept help from elves, **_even_** if it is given freely. You remember Thorin, he’s not the kind to admit needing help easily and certainly not from **_elves_**. The best we can do is have your people provide assistance to us, the hobbits. We’re going to need good weapons, not just cast-off men’s blades. How can we get the elven smiths to let Thorin, and the lads, into the forge?”

“The elves can make blades for you, it wouldn't take long at all.” Elladan put in.

“I know and we’d take them up on that, but the dwarrow will need to be involved, we will be part of their Company and us wanting them to make our blades will only garner their approval.”

“Bilbo? What if we were to get Telovar and Teldariel to ask the dwarrow into the forge. I mean, we both know the smiths well enough to know the only thing they care about is smithing. To see and work with dwarf-smiths, is there **_any_** smith that wouldn’t jump at the chance? You know the two of them **_couldn’t_** pass that up.” Frodo commented.

“Indeed, they couldn’t.” Elrond ceased his pacing and joined them again. “You both know some Sindarin, Bilbo, yours is near perfect, Frodo, yours will hold it’s own in light conversation and Bilbo, your Quenyan is excellent. But I do not know how well your fellow hobbits speak them, if they do at all. Knowing Thorin Oakenshield’s dislike of all that is elven, I suggest that you not use either of them much, instead where possible use Westron, but if you need to talk of hidden things, and I’m sure that at some point you will need to, then it would be best to use the Green Tongue. It’s as different from any elven tongue as it is from Khuzdul... Oh, and speaking of Khuzdul, Bilbo, you will need to let it be known that Gandalf taught you Khuzdul without knowing of the prohibition against outsiders speaking it.”

“Oh, dear. I hadn’t thought about that.” The hobbit groaned.

“But on the matter of weapons, I can advise you. Many decades ago, near two hundred years, in fact, the Battle of Greenfields occurred, yes, the same battle where your many-times Great Uncle Bandobras ‘Bullroarer’ Took used a club to remove the head of the goblin leader Golfimbul, and according Gandalf, invented the game of golf. After this incident, Telovar and Teldariel, at my request, made weapons, hobbit-sized weapons, when we presented them to the Bullroarer, he thanked us very politely but stated that they would remain in the Mathom-House in Michel Delving, so, to my knowledge, they should still be there on your return. The Bullroarer had six sons and so my smiths made seven set of blades and armour.”

“I don’t think that having elven armour and blades is going to endear us to Thorin, Elrond.” Bilbo responded.

“Ah, but that’s why I suggested these. They are not like any elven weapons forged prior, we shaped them for the grasses and trees of the Shire, the swords are edged like the saw-tooth grass, as are the daggers, even if the general shape is similar to your ‘Sting’. The set consists a bow and a sword, made to be attached by a set of hooks to the quiver, which is worn on the back, a pair of daggers to be worn at the hip, a second pair of daggers to be worn on the thigh, a third pair as part of the greaves and a final pair in the vambraces. In addition to this the metal is treated and holds no sheen, it is a dull mottled finish, meant not to draw the eye. Even the armour is different, it is made more in the styles of dwarrow or men, using lots of tiny interlocking leaves shaped like those of the tulip tree.”

“The Party Tree.” Frodo whispered.

“Yes, Hobbiton’s Party Tree _**was**_ the inspiration behind it. Even the colouring is inspired by the tree, it is soft green with just a hint of silver-grey to it, the most unusual thing about the armour, though, is that it can be worn reversed, inside out, I mean. Teldariel worked for weeks to get that right, but in the end she did it. One side is, as I said, soft green, but the other is a dull, very nondescript mottle of brown, grey, green and a deep plum. In shadow, it almost disappears. It’s made from leather, a hardened, stiffened leather and while it won’t stop a direct hit with a blade or arrow, it will deflect them as much as they can be deflected. Overall the weight of the entire suit, hauberk, vambraces and greaves, is less than a half full bucket of water and the blades weigh even less. You may need to replace some of the leather strapping for the blades, I’ve no way of knowing what conditions they’ve been kept in, but that shouldn’t too much of an issue, surely.” Elrond finished.

“And here.” Elladan, while his father talked, had been scratching in the gravel at their feet. “I remember watching Teldariel make the quivers, they were part quiver, part scabbard and part travel pack. There was an armoured outer case, to be a storage pack, it was made to match the hauberk in tulip leaf scales, and the quiver part was part of the section that was closest to the wearer’s back, the scabbard was further out but still part of the quiver, these were removable from the storage part of the pack and could be worn alone, if desired. The storage part of the pack looked odd when opened, it has a section removed that corresponded to the quiver and scabbard and had other travel goods that fit around that section. The packs even looked like massive armoured seed pods of the tulip tree, too, maybe not quite the same proportions, but with the same dull, brown-grey-green of a not-quite-ripe pod.” He laughed.

Elrohir was the next to speak.

“You’ve both done a lot of travelling, but none of you were given much time to prepare for it. Bilbo I know you complained most about lack of clothes. Instead of folding your clothes, roll them tightly, you’ll get more in the same amount of space.”

“In the travel packs, you should find a traveller’s kit, the pot is inside the frypan and a mug, a knife and spoon are stored inside the pot, with a deep plate or shallow bowl being used as a lid. The whole thing clips together with a bracket across the top of the plate. There should also be wash kit that rolls up.” Elladan added.

“A pair of travel flasks in the pack should still be good, if not, when you reach Rivendell we can provide them. When you do reach Rivendell ask to speak to me, if needs be tell your dwarrow that you are claiming a debt owed to your family. Thorin should approve of you calling in debts from an elf. Particularly when I’m sure I will not be too pleased about it. When he is out of earshot, or if he will not leave, then speak bluntly or in Sindarin, you must tell me that you are Belladonna’s son and you claim your mother’s ‘Gift of Healing Spring Growth’. We have not the time for me to explain fully, exactly what that means. In short, your mother and her gift of plant healing saved a tree very special to me and my family. Claim that and I will give you what aid I can, that your dwarrow will allow.” Elrond looked across the garden in the direction of the house as he said this.

“Mother’s _‘Ant Nestadren Tuia-Galas’_ , is that right?” Bilbo asked, his stomach rumbling.

“Perfect, Bilbo. Remember that, with that I will help you. Now, it’s almost luncheon, shall we ask Mithrandir to join us? You can explain your conversation with the Valar to him as we eat.”

 

Gandalf, however, blinked a few times and started to laugh, a great booming laugh. After a few minutes, he got himself under control and leant forward and looked at them.

“A grand joke that is, Bilbo. A grand joke, indeed.”

“Mithrandir?”

“Yes, Elladan?”

“They’re not joking. Bilbo and Frodo that is. We heard Lord Tulkas and Lord Irmo bid them, make their farewells.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it, I still think it’s a grand joke, but I didn’t say that Bilbo and Frodo are responsible, oh no, not at all. Tulkas and Irmo are the planners of this... even if Manwë is providing the power, he’s not the planner. Not this time.” The wizard assured them.

“So does that mean that it’s going to happen?” Frodo asked. “The Valar are **_really_** going to send us back? To do it again?”

“I would say so, yes.” Gandalf answered.

“Oh, dear.” Frodo sighed.

“So? How do we do this? Do we tell you? Then, I mean?” Bilbo asked.

“Hmm. It would be helpful to know, but…? It will complicate things, too. I would have to convince Thorin to take the lot of you and that won’t be easy. But then when we reached Rivendell, Elrond, you had called the White Council over Thorin’s quest, we now know that Saruman had defected, but then…?”

“I think it best left alone.” Elrond cautioned.

“What if,… we just tell you that we have been sent back to do the quest for Erebor and not mention anything about the Ring until we reach Beorn’s House or later? How would that go? It would make Galadriel and Saruman think twice about wanting to stop us.” Frodo put forward.

“If they know that the Valar sent us back in support of the quest, would that make them hesitate? I'll face the White Council and tell them my story, leave Frodo with the others and imply, without confirming, our connection. Would that work?” Bilbo asked.

“Indeed, it would.” Elrond answered.

“Hmm… Telling me may be the hardest part.” Gandalf warned them. “When you tell me, you’d best use my true name. Olórin. That will make me pause and actually listen, when that happens, mention the name Ariala. That will convince me that you what you say is true.”

“Ariala? Who is Ariala?”

“Ariala was my sister, we were created by Erú, before the universe was sung into being. We were both of the Ainur, but when I joined the Maiar, she retreated and became one with the stars, I greet her, through them, most nights. If you mention any of that, I will know that the only beings who could tell you this, are myself or Erú and either way you could only be told here, in Valinor.”

“Do you miss her, Gandalf?” Frodo asked.

“I do, Frodo. I talk of her so rarely, it’s been a few hundred years since I last said her name.” Tears were visible in the wizard’s eyes, so the hobbits changed the subject and gave him a chance to calm himself.

The pair of hobbits sat deep in their own thoughts, after a fair few minutes, Bilbo absently got to his feet and puttered about making tea. Frodo watched him and, just as absently, he started pulling out the makings of luncheon. Fifteen minutes later both hobbits looked in surprise at the laden table, omelettes, pies, salad and bread covered the centre of the table.

“Well, look at that. Oh, well, dig in lads. I don’t think we’re going to have to worry about refilling the pantry.” Bilbo encouraged as he sat down and pulled a plate towards himself.

 

Galadriel looking at them with pity tinged with admiration.

"Oh, dear." She Murmured.

“My Lady, we have talked much on the matter and we have reached the conclusion that at some point we must visit Lothlorien. Will this meeting be sufficient for your assistance? Or, like Gandalf, is there more that we must tell you, to gain what assistance we may need?” Bilbo spoke calmly.

“Your memory of this meeting should be sufficient, however, if I or my husband should hesitate, the name of our son will force our hand.”

“Your son, my Lady?” Bilbo asked.

“Yes. Our son. His name was Finarborn. He fell at Barad-dûr alongside Gil-galad and Elendil. He never saw Valinor and never will, those that fall in Arda, travel to the Halls of Mandos, not to the undying lands.” A tear slid down her cheek.

“I’m sorry, my lady. I did not mean-” Bilbo started.

“No, no. Do not fret, my friend. I do not tell you this, unwillingly. Finarborn would not want that, he was one to render aid to any who needed or asked for it.”

“He sounds like a elf worthy of knowing.” Frodo said quietly.

“I would like to think so.” She smiled softly. “The day is nearly gone, are you ready?”

“No, lady. I don’t think anyone could be ready for something like this, do you?” Bilbo grinned widely.

“You do know you can appeal to Erú Ilûvatar? If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. Erú can stop Manwë.”

“My lady, Frodo and have spend the afternoon discussing this. We both have so many regrets and even here in Valinor we find no relief. Frodo states that on their return journey from Minas Tirith to the Shire, both Merry and Pippin aired their regrets, while Sam kept his until it was just he and Frodo in Bag End. Frodo and I are both of the opinion that if they were told of this, all three, would be adamant of their inclusion.”

“In short, my lady…. We’re going.” Frodo said concisely.

"I think, we're quite ready for another Adventure, dont you?" Bilbo added, grinning.

“I can only wish you [_namari_ _ë_](farewell) and _[lelya-varna](safe%20travels)_  then.” The blonde elf stated.

 

 Sindarin = (S)      Quenyan = (Q)

Namarië = farewell (Q)

Lelya-varna = Safe travels (Q)


	3. Back in Bag End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving back in Bag End.  
> First two hobbits, then three, then five.  
> Plans are made (sort of).  
> Learning to shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additions and edits - 21-Aug

Sunlight bathed Frodo’s face. He opened his eyes, he just looked at what was in front of him, puzzled for a moment or two before recognition kicked in.

That was Bilbo’s naked back.

Oh, sweet Yavanna, they were _**both**_ naked. Frodo raised his eyes, anything to not see his favourite relative stark naked. His eyes met the master bedroom of Bag End. Frodo lay still for a full minute, just letting the sounds and smells of _**home**_ wash over him. Eventually his bladder forced him out of his reverent state. Sweeping his gaze to the end of the bed he spotted his dressing gown and what he assumed to be Bilbo’s, he had no memory of this particular gown, but some of the fabrics in it were vaguely familiar. He carefully slid from the bed, trying not wake the other occupant, reaching for his dressing gown. Doing it up he wondered why the Valar would put the two of them on the master bed.

As he left the bathroom, it occurred to him that at the start of their respective quests, they both held the title of ‘Master of Bag End’, where else but the master bed would they have been put?

Bilbo came stumbling out of the master bedroom, shaking his head, as Frodo reached kitchen.

“I’ll put the kettle on, shall I, Bilbo? And what about some clothes?” He asked before Bilbo could disappear down the hall to the bathroom.

“Yes, please Frodo. We're much the same size, so feel free to raid a closet.” Bilbo chirped as he vanished around a corner.

Ten minutes later the two hobbits, now dressed, sat at the kitchen table.

“I checked your calendar and today’s Tuesday the 1st of April, just like we wanted. But… according to your calendar you are due to leave for Tuckborough on Wednesday, you might want to put that off for a bit, Bilbo.”

“Yes, yes. I’ll write to cousin Fortimbras, tell him that you and the others are visiting… oh, stars… _**where**_ do we tell him you’re _**from**_?” Bilbo groaned. “We’ll have to tell him… something… Fortim won’t just let it go.”

“Oh, dear… um,… let me think… um… **_Oh_** , oh, **_yes_**. My shoulder, we can tell the Thain that I’ve come to fully recover from to a shoulder injury, it’s mostly the truth. We could say, I’m from Long Cleeve, maybe.” Frodo exclaimed.

“And what of the others?”

“Merry and Pippin decided they couldn’t let me stay here on my own, wanted me to have close family with me in my recovery and Sam wouldn’t let them travel alone, all three of them wanting to see more of the Shire, while they’re here.”

“And after they arrived, being interested in the lower Shire, I took you all to Michel Delving to the Mathom-House, then because they were still curious about the elves, you lot decided you wanted to go to Rivendell, so I asked Gandalf if he knew of anyone trustworthy travelling east, that would permit us to travel with them.” Bilbo added. “How does that sound?”

“Sounds good. We can hammer the details out, later. And that also covers us for going to Michel Delving and the Mathom-House, too. But, Bilbo? How are we going to get the armour and weapons out of the Mathom-House? We can’t just walk out with it, can we?”

“No, lad, we can’t, but the Mathom-House is partially an above ground smial. We can get onto the roof without difficulty. If we get there late enough in the day, I can do a little scouting that night, once I get onto the roof, it should be no trouble to jimmy open one of the light-well cupola windows and attach a rope to something secure. We can take some rope and maybe some canvas, we can tie it all together and lift it back up and outside. Then we simply walk out the door, it’ll be clear we’re not carrying anything, so even if the things are missed, we won’t be suspected.”

“You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?” Frodo asked.

Bilbo flushed bright red.

“What?” Frodo asked. “No need to blush, Bilbo, it’s coming in handy, now.”

“I… No. No, that’s not it, at all. I,… um…” He took a deep breath. “I’ve done it before.” He said in a rush.

“What?” Frodo eyebrows rose sharply with shock.

“I’ve done it before. The spoons that Lobelia keeps trying to steal? I broke into the Mathom-House and took them and the silver tea service, the spring after mother died. The tea service had been given to her by Elrond, but she said it was too fancy for her and put it in the Mathom-House. After she died, I was upset and decided, for whatever reason, that Uncle Isumbras, who was Thain at the time, wouldn’t approve of me wanting it back, so I went over and… just… took it. I never used the rest of the service, only ever the spoons.”

“Perfect.” Frodo exclaimed again. “I remember the place as being huge and really badly organised inside. We can visit two days in a row and tell the guards that because Merry, Pip and I want to go to Rivendell, you brought us to Michel Delving show us the tea service and once we get the armour and stuff out, we can ask the guards to help us as we can’t find the service, let them discover it’s missing. If it’s only the spoons that are important to you, can we use the rest of the service to cover up after us? We can leave it behind a building somewhere on the other side of town to where we are staying, make the whole thing look a bunch of tweens, out for a lark, did it.”

“Frodo, my lad, that is grand, just grand. With a little luck and a good bit of planning, that will get us weapons and armour.” The older hobbit laughed. “Now, let’s get that letter done and we can start getting together a list of other supplies. We haven’t a lot of time before we’re overrun by Tooks, we need to set your arrival before the lads turn up. So, what’s say we head down to market, this morning?”

“Fine by me, Bilbo, but… do you have something that I can use as a sling? We want people to think I’m here to recover after all.” Frodo said.

 

The two mornings later, the pair were sitting down to first breakfast when there was a thump from the direction of the bathroom and a few minutes later a **_very_** confused looking Samwise Gamgee entered the kitchen, wearing only a towel. He froze as he saw the two hobbits sitting there.

“Mr Frodo?” he asked, clearly shaken.

“Ah, Sam, come sit down, have a cup of tea. I think you’re going to need it.” Frodo replied.

“Mr Frodo, is that you? Is this Bag End? Is that really you, Mister Frodo? But you sailed with the elves, I watched you go. I only got back, day before yesterday. Mr Frodo, who’s this? Where did all this strange furniture come from? What’s going on? Please, Mr Frodo, I’m so confused.” Sam was truly rattled.

“Well… Frodo, is Sam always like this in the morning?” Bilbo asked.

“Only when he gets woken abruptly and is frazzled.” Frodo defended his Sam.

“Mr Frodo?” Sam asked plaintively.

“Sit down, Sam and I’ll explain.” Frodo assured his friend. “You put the kettle on again, please, Bilbo.” Frodo started.

“Bilbo? Mr Frodo, please?”

“Sam, let me finish before you say anything else, alright?” Frodo waited until Sam nodded and sat at the end of the table. He then went on to tell Sam about Valinor and how he and Bilbo were unable to let go of their regrets and how the Valar decided to give the five of them another chance at dealing with the Ring, but this time instead of starting at the beginning of their quest, they would start at the beginning of Bilbo’s.

“Mr Bilbo? Really? Wow, you look so young, Mr Bilbo.” Was fairly much all Sam could get out.

“I am young, Sam. Right now, Frodo and I are about the same physical age, we were both about 50 when we left Hobbiton. You’re 40 or there abouts, yes? Merry is two years younger than you and Pippin will be roughly 30-ish, the young rascal, how typical of a Took not to wait until his Coming-of-Age to dash off on an adventure.” Bilbo replied. “Frodo, lad why don’t you take Sam and find him some clothes? Try the wardrobe in the back storage room, I kept my father’s old clothes there, he and Sam are much of a size.”

“Oh, no, Mr Bilbo, there’s no need, I can go out the back and home and get a change, it won’t take me long.” The gardener turned to leave.

“Sam. That won’t work. Your parent’s smial hasn’t been built yet, your father’s little more than a babe, right now. We’re sixty years before you followed Frodo and Gandalf out of the shire.” Bilbo stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Sixty years? But? Why would the Valar do that to us?” He whispered. What about his Rosie? His Elanor? Why would the Valar keep him from his beautiful girls?

“Come along, Sam and I’ll try and answer your questions. Alright?” Frodo took Sam gently by the arm and lead him away. Bilbo got to his feet and started clearing the table, setting out eggs, some bacon and sausages, ready to cook for second breakfast.

Barely had had he finished when another thump was heard, this time from one of the spare rooms in the east wing.

“I’ll see to that.” Bilbo called.

“Hello? Who’s there?” Called a sharp voice.

“Shush, Pip.” A second voice said.

Bilbo opened the hall closest and grabbed two cloaks as he walked, he entered the spare room and looked at the pair of hobbits sitting on the floor, he wasn’t sure which was which. Telling the two apart had always been difficult for Bilbo, by the time the lads entered his life, his eyesight had been starting to fail, so he’d have to get Frodo to reintroduce them, once they were dressed.

“Hullo, lads, welcome back to Bag End.” He said.

“Who are you?” said one.

“Bilbo? Where did you get to?” Frodo’s voice came from the kitchen. The two hobbits bounced to their feet, completely unconcerned by their lack of clothes.

“Frodo?” Called one.

“Frodo!” Cried the other, as the two raced out of the room. Just outside the door the pair came to a skidding halt, as memory kicked in. One stepped forward hesitantly, while the other turned, just as hesitantly, to face him.

“Bilbo?” one asked.

“Frodo?” asked the other.

“Here, lads, put these on and we’ll see about some answers. Alright?” Bilbo handed over the cloaks and the pair hurriedly put them on, seeming to **_finally_** realise their state of undress.

“Ah, there you are… Oh, they arrived then? Here, get dressed properly, you two, we’ll have second breakfast and bring you up to date on what’s happening. How’s that sound?” Frodo asked as he shoved a bundle of clothes at each of the two new hobbits.

“Frodo, lad? Care to tell me which is which? My eyesight wasn’t good enough back then, to tell them apart.” Bilbo requested.

“Of course, Bilbo. This here is Pip and that’s Merry.” Frodo pointed to the slighter built of the pair first, then to the other, he had a heavier build, Pippin also had finer features to Merry’s rounder face. Other than this the two were incredibly similar, they both had sandy light brown hair that curled riotously and were taller than Bilbo by a few inches, both of them would be around the 4’6” mark or close to it, making them **_very_** tall for hobbits.

Frodo and Bilbo chivvied the pair to the kitchen, where Sam had set about cooking eggs, bacon and sausages for a hearty second breakfast.

“Sam?... Frodo?... but you sailed west with the elves, Frodo. We watched you leave. How are you here?” Pippin stammered.

“Right, lads. It’s a bit more complicated than that. The only one that actually belongs here, right now, is Bilbo. This is Bag End, yes, but Bag End before any of us were born. Today’s date is the 3rd of April, 2941, the same month that Bilbo left with his dwarrow to fight the dragon. Yes, Bilbo, I know it wasn’t just about the dragon, but that can wait.” Frodo dished up a plate of food and in between mouthfuls, he continued. “We sailed with the elves and reached Valinor with no problems.”

“What’s it like?” Pippin interrupted. Bilbo and Frodo both laughed.

“Boring is the word we used. There’s nothing to do, the elves wander around singing for joy, the pantry is always full and the garden always neat. There’s nothing for a hobbit to get his hands into. We decided to start a prank war with Elrond’s sons, just for something to do.” Frodo replied.

“Four mornings ago Frodo and I were sitting and watching the waves, because… what else was there to do? We were talking about our quests and about the things we regretted, these three elves came and sat with us and we talked-” Bilbo told the three hobbits all that had happened before their arrivals.

“So, now we let slip that the three of you have come to join Frodo. We’re heading over to Michel Delving soon, but we need to be here for lunch on Sunday, I’ve told Holman, that I’m hoping Gandalf will turn up and if he does that, while we’re down in the market, to let him into the smial and tell him I’m expecting him to stay for luncheon.” He finished.

“Really? We’re going to break into the Mathom-House?” Pippin asked.

Frodo and Bilbo looked at each other.

“That’s what he got out of all that? We’re going to break into the Mathom-House? That’s it? **_Really?_** ” Bilbo asked in disbelief.

“Hey. I heard what you said, but , yeah, okay, fine, we’re doing the quest over again. We did it once, we can do it again, but the Mathom-House? Never broke into that, before.” Pippin argued.

“Ah, not quite, Pip. We’re doing **_Bilbo’s_** quest this time, not ours.” Frodo pointed out.

“Oh. Oh,… well,… that’s different.” The young hobbit said deflated.

“And yes, Pippin, we’re going to break into the Mathom-House, Bilbo’s done it before and will walk us through it as we head for Michel Delving. So, eat up and let’s get on with the day.” Frodo directed. The others laughed in good humour as Pippin cheered at the confirmation of breaking into the Mathom-House.

The three newest additions to Bag End reached for plates and food. After a good hearty breakfast the five headed into the study, they had a lot of planning to do and a limited time to do it in. Breaking into the Mathom-House was only a small part of it, they needed to have ponies, bedrolls, oilcloths, travel foods, maps, clothes and all the incidental things needed for long distance travel. They wandered their way down to the market, buying meats and vegetables for dinner and at the same time, cementing Bilbo’s premise for their arrival, letting it be known that the visiting hobbits wanted to see more of the shire and that if Frodo's shoulder didn't improve, they wanted Bilbo to take them to Rivendell to seek advice from Elrond. Bilbo made a show of not being too keen, but conceded that if Gandalf turned up, he would ask the wizard’s advice.

The rest of the day and the evening were spent trying to get to grips with shifting into their Valar-Gifted forms, the first few times were an unmitigated failure, no one managing it for more than a few seconds. But as they practised, they began to improve. Bilbo and Frodo would discuss it later and say that the process of going from hobbit to, in Bilbo’s case, a lynx, was a little like stepping into a very hot tub of water, the scald a shock and once the shock wore off, you were an animal, going back the other way was even easier, the extra warmth dropping away and suddenly you could stand upright, again.

Pippin found shifting into the pine marten was easy, but staying in that shape took concentration, which he struggled with, it was something that he knew he would have to work on. Merry had a little more difficulty shifting into his wolf self, but less trouble staying in that form. Sam was without a doubt the most comfortable with his shift, he had no trouble making the change or keeping it for anything up to an hour. Frodo, too, had little trouble in making the shift, but half an hour was all he could manage to hold the shift for. Bilbo was fairly much in the middle, while he didn’t struggle with shifting, he did have to concentrate on holding the lynx form. All of them found the Warg shift the easiest, both to shift into and to hold. It was a shock to Merry, Pippin and Sam, the size of Bilbo and Frodo’s Wargs, they were big enough for a Man to ride and were truly savage looking creatures.

After dinner, came the lecture, Bilbo started to tell them the complete and unedited version of his time with the dwarrow, in three hours, he’d barely got them to the Trollshaws. It was decided that they would continue this every night until the tale was complete, Bilbo making sure that he answered any questions that they raised as quickly as possible. This time spent first shifting and then talking would become a deliberate schedule in the coming days, keeping them focused and connected.

  


	4. Getting Sorted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to the pony market  
> Introducing 6 ponies to 5 animals  
> Informing the Wizard of a change in plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additions and edits - 21-Aug

Early the next day they ventured out towards Bywater, the task for the day was to attend the pony market, Merry had been adamant that they should have Rohirrim ponies, their endurance would be needed as they approached Rivendell. He hoped that they could convince Elrond to send a ranger with the ponies to Lothlorien, after the hobbits left with the dwarrow. They’d also need travelling saddles and, if at all possible, they wanted an extra pony to use as a pack-pony, while they planned on taking no more than they could comfortably carry, things had a habit of going head-over-tea-kettle without a moment’s notice. Plus, Bilbo wasn’t keen on the shaggy mountain ponies, that Thorin favoured, they made him sneeze, a **_lot_**.

When a Bounder named Jonath, heard the Bag End hobbits wanted Rohirrim ponies to travel to Rivendell, he send them off to the inn, for lunch and went hunting on their behalf, ending up getting five Rohirrim riding ponies and a Rohirrim/mountain crossbred pony to use as a pack pony. While he struggled to find the type of travel saddles that Merry wanted, he did find five lightweight Bounder saddles suitable for travelling, five sets of grooming gear **_and_** he saw to having the ponies shod properly. It cost considerably less than they’d expected to pay, as Jonath was a renowned master-bargainer, but Bilbo made sure that he was generous in his thanks to the Bounder for his time and meticulous attention to detail.

They left Bywater soon after lunch and were unsaddling before afternoon tea time, Merry making them rub down and groom all the ponies, before letting anyone head inside. Some treats and an apple or two and the hobbits were firmly ensconced as the ponies’ favourite owners, as this worked so well in such a short time, they decided to spend the next day, seeing if they could get the ponies accustomed to their shifted forms.

None of the ponies had an issue with Pippin’s, Frodo’s or Sam’s shifts. The problems came when Merry and Bilbo tried to introduce their shifted forms. The pack pony, Apple, was the calmest, but even she was not happy to have predators so near. It wasn’t until Bilbo lost control of his shift in front of the ponies that things changed. His gelding Pebble saw him appear and snorted in surprise, he inched forward and snuffled through the hobbit’s hair, before turning to where Merry hunkered down in his wolf form, trying to appear unthreatening. The pony’s ears swung back and forward and his nostrils flared, he caught the scent of hobbit Merry lingering on the wolf’s fur and nickered softly. Bilbo stepped over to stand beside Merry and after petting Pebble’s nose, he shifted forms as slowly as he could, the pony’s ears flicked in his direction and slowly the lynx-shaped hobbit inched towards the pony. The two touched noses for a second and the lynx sneezed, causing the pony to start and the other hobbits to laugh, the wolf, too, came forward, touching noses with the lynx and the pony. After that, the other ponies crowded around, snuffling the fur of the wolf and the lynx, lipping at tails and nudging for attention.

Finally it was Sunday, the day they were expecting Gandalf to turn up. After an early first breakfast, they fed and groomed the ponies, all hobbits shifted forms, the idea being to remind the ponies that these animals were not a danger to them. After the tenuous start, Sam suggested that they wait for a week or so before trying to expose the ponies to their Warg forms. That could wait until they got back from Michel Delving.

A knock at the back door brought Bilbo out of the study, he opened the door and Holman Greenhand spoke quickly and quietly.

“Mr Bilbo. Mr Gandalf is coming this way, young Wilibald Bolger told him you wanted to speak to him. He should be along shortly.”

“Thank you Holman. It’s good of you to let me know. Off you go, now, the lads and I will be fine.” He assured the gardener and watched as the other hobbit left, scampering spryly over the fence and through the vacant blocks until he reached Hamdee Cotton’s back yard, there, he leant on the fence and chattered away with Missus Cotton, the pair watching as Gandalf wandered up Bagshot Row towards Bag End. Bilbo hurried through Bag End and out the front door, he settled himself on the bench near the front gate, a pipe in his hand, blowing smoke rings while he waited for the wizard to appear.

Gandalf stopped where he could see the hobbit but due to the direction he faced, the hobbit was unable to see the wizard. Belladonna’s son was a robust looking fellow, he was exactly what the wizard was looking for, the task of convincing him, a simple one in his mind. The hobbit lifted his head and his eyes met those of the wizard.

The hobbit’s hazel-green eyes were not what the wizard expected. Those eyes were not the eyes of a hobbit just reaching middle-age, no, the eyes looking at him were old, **_very_** old, they had seen pain and suffering, they had seen joy and laughter.

“Gandalf! Welcome to Bag End.” The hobbit exclaimed in joy.

“I wasn’t aware you remembered me, Bilbo Baggins.” The wizard stated, slightly startled.

“Of course, I remember you. Come in, come in. I’ll explain when we’ve a kettle on. Frodo! Frodo! Gandalf’s here, hurry the lads up will you?” the hobbit called into a doorway as he urged the wizard through the hall and into the kitchen.

“Right you are, Bilbo.” A light voice replied from somewhere deep in the smial, before the padding of feet was heard and a door creaked open and closed.

“You have visitors, Bilbo? I’ll not dist-” He got no further before Bilbo cut him off.

“You’ll sit right there, Olórin.” The hobbit said sharply.

“What? How?... How do you know that name?” The wizard gasped.

“Let’s wait for the others, shall we, before we go into too much depth. There’s a lot to say, and if you plan on getting to Bree and back before the end of the month, there’s not a lot of time to say it in.” With that Bilbo bustled about making tea and setting scones and cakes out for a late morning tea.

When four other hobbits joined them, all of them greeting the wizard like long lost friends, Bilbo finally took pity on an extremely confused Gandalf.

“Gandalf, what I am about to tell you is confidential, understand? You cannot tell anyone of this, not without our consent.” He waited until the wizard nodded. “Good. I am an old hobbit, Gandalf, I’ll not say exactly how old, though.” He grinned here. “But I never died, Gandalf. When Frodo, here, was 53, we sailed to the undying lands with Galadriel, Celeborn, Elrond, Cirdan and… you.”

“Sailed west? Bilbo, I-” the wizard started.

“Gandalf. Wait, please wait. Let me finish.” The wizard reluctantly sat back and waved for Bilbo to continue. “Thank you. I’ve lived my life before. You’re here to ask me to join Thorin Oakenshield on his quest to reclaim Erebor. I did join him, Gandalf, we fought trolls, wargs, goblins, Orcs and I stood against Smaug, in the end Erebor was reclaimed… but Thorin, Fíli and Kíli fell to Azog and Bolg. They never saw Erebor free of the dragon. I stayed long enough to see them entombed in the Mountain, before leaving with you to come home, home to a smial that meant little to me anymore. Frodo came to live with me and we lived easily enough for many years, until my 111 birthday, in fact. That was when I decided to leave the Shire, I wanted to see mountains again, Gandalf, mountains... or really, one mountain. I wanted to return to Erebor, where my heart was buried, but I never made it there. I lived my lasted years in Rivendell.” The hobbit filled the teapot and sat down opposite the wizard.

“When Galadriel and Elrond resolved to leave Arda, they offered me a place on the last ship to sail west and at the last moment, Frodo came with me. Valinor was not what we expected, Gandalf. The pantry was always full, the garden neat and nothing ever needs repairing, in other words, to a hobbit wanting to keep busy, it was boring. We spent our time planning the pranks for a war we never really got the chance to start. As we sat on the beach one day, Lords Tulkas, Lorien Irmo and Manwë approached us, we talked of our quests, our regrets and sorrows. They gave us the chance to return and undertake the quest for Erebor again.”

Frodo spoke for the first time.

“After they left us, we spoke with Elrond, Galadriel and you, each of you gave us a word or phrase that would ensure that you **_knew,_** we told the truth, the only way we could know these words, was if each of you had told us. And you said, and I quote. ‘I talk of her so rarely, it’s been a few hundred years since I last said her name.’ you then went on to say that you greet Ariala through the stars, most nights. Gandalf, there wear tears in your eyes as you told us this.”

“Ariala… she was-”

“She was your sister, you said, when you became a Maia, she became one with the stars.” Frodo quietly finished.

“Yes, yes, she did.” The wizard picked up the man-sized mug of tea and sipped at it. “What you know of… of… of **_her_** , could only have been told to you by myself or Erú Ilûvatar, himself. Erú is in Valinor and only in Valinor, would I have the emotional calm to speak freely of her. Hence, **_only_** in Valinor could you be told this, so what you tell me, must be true, you have been there and _**only**_ at the discretion of Manwë can you be Restored.” He drained his mug and held it out to Bilbo to refill.

“So, Master Baggins, tell me what can five hobbits do, that a company of dwarves cannot?

“Gandalf, you should know that in Khuzdul culture, it is one dwarf and two dwarrow, but that is neither here nor there. As to what we can do? Merry, Pippin, Sam? If you would, please?”

At that the three younger hobbits got to their feet and left the kitchen, in the hallway atrium the three stood and one by one, they shifted into their totem shift. Gandalf jerked in surprise, his eyes opening wide and his jaw falling.

“Merry is the wolf, Sam the owl and Pippin is the pine marten. Frodo is a hawk and I am a lynx, but that’s not all. Pippin? You’re the smallest, would you show Gandalf the other shift, please?”

As Gandalf watched, the owl flitted into the kitchen and perched on the back of a chair, while the wolf reached the seat Merry, as a hobbit, had sat in and jumped up onto it. Out in the hall, Pippin moved to the centre of the atrium and the pine marten began to morph, after a few seconds, where the pine marten had stood, now a massive black warg crouched, it’s head brushing the beams of the smial’s ceiling even though the animal was bent legged.

“And that? Gandalf, that is what hobbits can do that dwarrow cannot. A Gift of Irmo or Tulkas, we’re not real sure which one, maybe it’s both. Merry and Pip said many times, that being a shape-shifter like Beorn would have been very handy and so the Valar Gifted us the ability, each of us has a totem shift, that is unique to each of use, the Warg-shift?, that is for all of us. Pippin is the smallest of the Wargs and even he’s larger than the beast that Azog rides, Bilbo is the largest, he’s a good two foot taller than Pip.” Frodo assured Gandalf.

“Oh, my.” Gandalf said, faintly.

“Well, that’s a change.” Bilbo said.

“A change?, a change from what?” Gandalf asked.

“Well, every time we startle someone with this, they say, ‘Oh, dear,’. So ‘Oh, my’, is a change.”

Gandalf snorted at the hobbit’s attitude.

“Well, to business, then. I was expecting only one hobbit and so, as a result, was Thorin. He will not like this, **_one_** he would accept, but **_five_**? I cannot see he being pleased at this development.”

“No, no, he won’t, but he wasn’t pleased about having one hobbit along, regardless of what he told you. It was weeks, before he did more than tolerate me and it wasn’t until I saved his life on the other side of the Misty Mountains, before he was pleased I was there.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is going to be to sell him on **_five_** hobbits?”

“Yes, Gandalf, I do, but you can put it as a financial proposition. He and his Company, hire me and my Nas. He offered me a one/fourteenth share and even though he fell, Daín saw that I got as much as I was prepared to accept. This time, it will be a little different. The five of us have talked and we have come to a decision. We, as a company, will accept a one/fourteenth share if Thorin, Fíli and Kíli die, if they live, however, we will accept a one/twenty-eighth share and a place in the Mountain. We will not be returning to the Shire, none of us want that.”

“I cannot tell Thorin that, the way you’ve said it, you get more if they die and less if they live, it will give the impression of their lives not being as valuable.”

“Told you.” Pippin nudged Bilbo.

“Alright, Pip, alright. We’ll stick with your idea, then. Tell Thorin that the Nas of Bag End will accept a one/fourteenth share of the treasure and will fund their own outfit, including ponies and all travel articles. For the price of one hobbit, he gets five. How does that sound?” Bilbo swatted Pip, before finishing.

“Nas of Bag End? What does ‘Nas’ mean?” the wizard asked, curiously.

“Nas is a hobbit-ish term that means roughly, ‘family group’ and that is what we are. Pippin’s father is a Took, as is Merry’s mother, Frodo’s Grandmother and my mother. Sam is a Gamgee and as practical a hobbit as you could ever wish to meet. Together we are a family, the Nas of Bag End. You can tell Thorin that, he will understand, family is important to him.”

“That, I can tell him and I shall, I am to meet him at the Prancing Pony in Bree.”

“We know.” Came from four hobbits.

“Of course, you do.” The wizard sighed.

“It’s your favourite inn, of course, you’d tell him to meet you there.” Frodo explained.

“Ah. Well… We hope to be back here for either Friday the 25th or Saturday the 26th, it will depend a little on travel time.”

“Make it the 26th, Gandalf, that’ll give the lads and I time to do a real hobbit-y feast for them, and still give us time to see to all the minutiae that go with leaving the Shire.”

“You don’t have to leave the Shire permanently, Bilbo, you know that.”

“Gandalf, I lived here for sixty years after the quest for Erebor, not a single day went by without me wishing it had been different, if they had lived Thorin would have approved of our relationship, he said that once Erebor was reclaimed, he would wish us well and would stand in front of us, as my dwarf and I said our vows.”

“Your dwarf?”

“Yes, my dwarf. I will not say his name, as I do not know if he will feel the same as I, this time, but he will always have my heart and whether he feels the same or not, I will do everything I can to see he lives, this time. If he does?, well, if he does, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” The hobbit resolutely straightened his shoulders and gently placed his mug on the table.

“Now, Gandalf? Do you have a horse hidden away or are you on foot?” Frodo asked.

“Oh, I’ve left a horse down at the Green Dragon.”

“Good, good. Are you staying for lunch? Or are you heading off right away?” Bilbo added.

“Now, Bilbo, I would never turn down a meal from the kitchens of Bag End. Your mother should have told you that.”

“Oh, she did, but I wasn’t sure how eager you were to get moving.”

“I’m sure I can make up an hour or two, if I’m still invited, that is?”

“There will always be a seat for you at my table, Gandalf, always.” Bilbo replied.

“Here, here. Same for all of us, Gandalf.” Pippin added having shifted back into his hobbit-shape, he was petting the ears of wolf-Merry as he spoke.

“Well, that’s good to hear. Bilbo, Frodo, lads? It’s a while till luncheon, is there somewhere outside, that you can show me more of your ‘shifts’? Is that the right term?” the wizard asked.

“Let’s go up over the Hill, there’s plenty of room there. As for whether it’s ‘shifts’ or not?, we’ve no idea, Gandalf, we’re just making it up as we go along.”

 

Nas of Bag End = Family of Bag End.


	5. Hunting for Armour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunting through the Mathom-House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additions and edits - 21-Aug

Hobbits walking into Michel Delving with six ponies was not a common occurrence and many hobbits paused in their actions to watch the Bag End hobbits pass. Turning north as they reached the marketplace, they made their way up the slight incline towards the Town Hall, Mathom-House and the Rockflower Inn. When the stablemen took the ponies, the hobbits slipped their packs loose and entered the Inn proper, their entrance bringing Keeper Blaygrove from the bar.

“Master Baggins, welcome back to Michel Delving. We hasn’t seen you for ages, must be nigh on five years, since you was here last. What can I for you?”

“Ah, Keeper Blaygrove, thank you. Yes, it’s been a little over six years, in fact. My companions here are visiting for a bit and they’re a curious lot, so I thought I’d bring them over and let them putter through the Mathom-House for a day or two, even three if something takes their fancy.” Bilbo replied genially.

“Well, I don’t doubt there’ll be things to interest them, in there. So, you’ll be needing rooms for a few nights, then?” The tavern keeper pulled a ledger book across the counter and handed Bilbo a quill.

“Yes, please. Now, last time I was here, you were talking about building a guest smial or two, if I recall, you were waiting for Mayor Potts to agree to it. Did you get his permission?”

“Oh, yes. We’ve three guest smials now, they’ve their own kitchens and bathrooms, too. Would you and the lads, like one? There’s two to choose from, one’s above the Inn and looks out over Town Hall and the other’s a bit quieter, it’s south-west facing and butt’s up against the fence of the Mathom-House. That might be better for your curious lads.”

“That sounds marvellous, Keeper Blaygrove. The lads and I aren’t much for drinking, you know and if I can speak with Mayor Potts, maybe the lads can have a little extra time picking through the mathoms. We saw the market’s closed for the day, so where can we get the makings for some hearty breakfasts? We will, of course, eat in the Inn each night.” Bilbo filled in all the pertinent details for himself and left out anything more than there were four other hobbits with him.

“Well now, Master Baggins, we does a fine breakfast bundle, I’ll have one of my little ones bring it over. But… if’n you and the lads aren’t much for drinking and noise, you might wanna have my wife bring over a meal tonight, we’ve a group of dwarves heading to the Blue Mountains staying and they’s a bit rowdy. A good bunch, but rowdy, all the same.”

“Ah. Well? Given how tired we are, that might not be such a bad idea. Shall we say 7 o’clock? And do you know if Mayor Potts is likely to be in his office?” Avoiding dwarrow would be good. Pity most people still called them dwarves, it wasn’t the polite thing to do.

“7 o’clock’s fine and yes, Tom Potts should be in his office, I’d think. Let me show you the smial and get you settled and then you can trundle on over there.”

“Thank you muchly.” Bilbo pushed the ledger back across the counter and picked up his canvas covered pack. “Lead the way, please, Keeper Blaygrove.”

The Inn keeper waved to catch the attention of an older hobbit, possibly his barkeep, as he lead the Bag End hobbits back out the front door and around the side of the building. He continued around until they were heading up the rise behind the Inn, here the path split in two, one path lead to the north-east and the other due west. Blaygrove indicated the western path and a few yards along they found the path split again, one lead directly north and the other stayed to the west, the western path lead to a charming little smial, looking out to the south-west and the Mathon-House. Inside the smial, an entrance hall opened into a parlour-cum-dinning room and a kitchen, the hallway had doors for four bedrooms and two bathrooms opening off of it.

“Oh, this is fine, Blaygrove, just fine. We’ll be very comfortable here, I’m sure.” Bilbo enthused.

“Right you are, Master Baggins. Now, if one of your lads wants to follow me, I send him back with the makings of tea and supper, the wife’ll send a little one over with the breakfast bundle, ina bit and she’ll bring a hearty dinner at 7, herself.” The keeper bustled around seeing there was enough wood and kindling for fire, opening the windows to let a breeze in and just basically fussing over them.

“Oh, that’s lovely, Keeper Blaygrove.” Frodo said. “I’ll come with you now and the lads can pick rooms. Just make sure to leave one for Bilbo and another for me, Pip.”

“We will.” Merry, Pippin and Sam chorused, as Frodo and Bilbo gently bullied keeper Blaygrove out the door.

When they reached the inn’s entrance again, Bilbo spoke.

“Right, then Frodo. Put a tea together, I’ll chat with Mayor Potts and see if we can get some leniency on access to the Mathom-House.”

“If you can that would good, the lads are keen to see what they can of the middle and lower Shire.” Frodo agreed and Bilbo made his way across the Inn’s yards and into those of the Town Hall, entering and politely ringing the bell to call the town clerk from his office.

“May I help you?” The clerk asked, quietly.

“Master Bilbo Baggins, I’d like a word with Mayor Potts, if possible. Regarding admittance to the Mathom-House.” Bilbo replied.

“Ah, one moment and I’ll check if he’s available.” The clerk gestured to a few chairs in the waiting area. Bilbo sat and did his best to be patient, thankfully he only had to wait a minute or two and the clerk was back.

“Please follow me.” He was lead down a short hall to a door simply marked, ‘POTTS’, the clerk opened the door and ushered Bilbo inside.

“Welcome, Master Baggins. Nitty said you wanted to speak to me about access to the Mathom-House?” The round-faced hobbit sitting at a chunky desk, laden with papers and books, said.

“Indeed, I do. My young travelling companions? Well, they’re distant relatives on the Took side and they’ve come down from… well… not **_quite_** , Long Cleeve, but close enough. Anyway, you know how curious Took’s can be? Frodo, Merry and Pippin are even more curious than the average Took.” Bilbo started.

“And the other fellow?” Potts asked, obviously he'd seen them arrive or someone had informed him or their numbers.

“Sam. Sam’s very protective of Frodo. The four of them were accosted late one night, by a group of rogue Men, poor Frodo was stabbed in the shoulder and it’s not healing right. Healers have recommended that he travel to Rivendell and ask the Elf-Lord, Elrond, for treatment. And as my mother is one of the few hobbits that Elrond favoured, I have been asked to accompany him. Merry, Pippin and Sam refuse to let him travel alone and without a thought to themselves, they came to Hobbiton to be with him. I’ve spoken with Gandalf Greyhame and he’s located a dwarf Company travelling East that will allow us to travel with them.” Bilbo took a deep breath. “They’ll meet us in Hobbiton in just over two weeks, but in the mean time, I’ve four curious lads that have little sense of mortality, to occupy. Frodo wanted to see more of the lower Shire and when I suggested Tuckborough and the Mathom-House, the four of them were interested in the Mathom-House. I want to keep them as busy as possible. I know you’ve your own share of pranksters and I’d shudder if these four found them.”

“That sounds like a recipe for disaster. What can I do to help?” The mayor grimaced.

“Well, as they’re interested in it, I’d like to keep them in the Mathom-House, as much as possible. Any chance of getting permission to visit for extended hours? I know you usually shut the doors by 4 o’clock, but it’s nearly that now, if we could stay until 6, that would give me time to find things that interest them, that they can investigate further tomorrow. Maybe even Thursday. After here, I should speak to the Thain, if I’m to leave the shire for any length of time, so we may yet go to Tuckborough.” Bilbo finished.

The mayor didn’t answer immediately, instead he pulled a piece of paper across the desk in front of himself and picking up a pen, hastily scribbled for a few lines, once he’d blotted the ink, he slid the page over to Bilbo.

“Give this to Nitty as you leave and he’ll see to it. We’ve had a spate of pranks recently, so keeping your lads away from ours, that’s worth seeing to the closing up myself. I’ve another meeting in an hour, Master Baggins, that’ll likely keep me busy until at least half-Six, maybe later. If they’re still interested tomorrow afternoon, I’ll give you the same again.”

“Thank you, you have no idea… thank you.” Bilbo felt only relief, getting that extra time in the Mathom-House meant being able to conduct a thorough search of the building, if there were elven weapons in there, who knew what else was there that would be of use to them. Having the extra time to be certain they’d found everything they could, was a bonus.

“No, Master Baggins, consider it a preventative measure. You take as long as those lads’ interest holds.” The mayor grinned as he escorted Bilbo out to the main door and reclaimed the piece of paper he’d handed Bilbo. “Nitty! Nitty! Good afternoon, Master Baggins.” He turned from the door and headed off into a side room, still calling for Nitty.

Bilbo hurried across to the smial he and the lads were staying in, he bustled in the door and as he entered the kitchen, Frodo was pouring tea into five mugs.

“Sam spotted you coming across the Inn’s yards.” The dark-haired hobbit said in answer to Bilbo’s unasked question.

“Ah, thank you.” Was all he said.

“So, how’d it go?” Pippin was almost bouncing in his seat.

“We’re good. There’s been a spate of pranks, too so that will help us. We’ve got until 6 o’clock, or there abouts, tonight and if we want it, then tomorrow, too.”

“How ever did you do it, convince the mayor, I mean?” Sam asked.

“I suggested that you four are pranksters extraordinaire and that keeping you away from the resident pranksters would be beneficial.” Frodo and Merry laughed at the look of outrage on both Sam and Pippin’s faces, Pip was surely put out that Bilbo would put Sam in his league, just as Sam was appalled at being tarred with the same brush as a troublemaker like Pippin.

“Enough, lads, we’ve a busy afternoon in front of us. Pippin, you’d best get that rope ready to go. Frodo, you get the canvas ready. Sam, have you any smallish pieces of string, we might need some?” Bilbo was in charge of this outing, being as he already done this before.

Rinsing their mugs and leaving them on the draining rack, the five hobbits quickly got themselves ready to go. Within minutes they were at the door to the Mathom-House, the guard there letting them in and pulling the door nearly closed behind them, he told them that he was off duty now and that the mayor would come and kick them out when he finished for the day. Frodo wished him a good evening and followed Bilbo inside.

The inside was surprising bright for a smial, but when Bilbo pointed out the three light-well cupolas, it made sense. Lots of light, but nothing important in direct light either. As they all had a vague idea of what the armour and the packs looked like, they split up and went searching, knowing that it would likely be tucked in some out of the way place, 200 years was a long time and the things would probably be shrouded by newer items. Bilbo took the front room, he lifted things and shoved others aside, but the only thing he saw that might be of use to them was a set of fancy leather belts, he put them in the middle of the room and headed off to find Frodo.

Frodo had more luck. He had found a set of what appeared to be throwing knives, they were in the style of Men, but way too small for a Man’s hand, they must have been made for a child or a hobbit. Bilbo agreed they were good and they were added to Bilbo’s belts.

Sam had found the weapons, but had not seen any of the armour or the packs, carefully they added the bows and the various blades to the pile. The other thing that Sam had spotted was rope, elven rope and he was adamant they were taking that, you could never have too much rope, was what he said.

Merry was in the side room nearest the Inn and he’d spotted the pod-shaped packs, but needed help to get to them, or rather needed help to get to them **_quietly_**. With Sam directing, and Frodo’s help, Merry was able to hand the packs out of the chaos to Bilbo. They briefly checked that the items Elrond had told them of, were actually in the packs, all but the flasks were there and Frodo had glimpsed some that would do the job in the front room. The packs and the flasks were added to the growing pile.

Pippin was in the far back room and he found not just the armour, but more throwing knives, some marvellously intricate armoured leather half-gloves, hobbit sized, and more elven rope. But of course, like with what Merry had found, so much had been stacked on top of and in front of these, getting to them was turning out to be a major undertaking, eventually though, they made it and the pile in the front room grew.

They opened the packs and with a bit of cramming they managed to get everything but the swords and the bows into the packs. Each of them carried a pack, a sword and a bow to the light-well nearest their rented smial and after much debate, they had agreed that if possible, Pippin, who was by far the best climber they had, would climb up to the windows in the cupola and as they opened from the inside, if he could get up there, he could open the windows and hopefully push the packs out the window without being seen.

It was a big ask, but the young hobbit was convinced he could do it. It was a nerve-wracking few minutes for Bilbo, who had never actually seen Pippin climb before. Less than halfway up the lad stopped and returned to ground level.

“We didn’t think about this too good, did we?” He asked.

“Why do you say that Pip?” Merry asked him.

Pippin didn’t answer, but instead stood clear and slowly shifted into his pine marten form, he shook himself and with a chittering growl, raced to a support post and scrambled up to the ledge at the base of the window with ease. He carefully braced himself in the corner and began to shift back into his hobbit form. It took only minutes from there to have all packs and weapons tied together and bundled up just outside the window. While Merry and Frodo were doing this, Bilbo went and picked out some of the more gaudy items and wrapped them in the canvas that Frodo had worn under his shirt, they would use these items spread out across the village tonight and tomorrow night to cover up after themselves.

Sam had estimated that they were running out of time and went to the main door to keep lookout. Pippin had only just closed and locked the window, with the packs on the outside, when Sam called that the mayor had left Town Hall and that given how few people were stopping him to chat they had only a minute or two before he was at the Mathom-House. Pippin shifted back into his pine marten form and instead of climbing down, he just leapt into the air, trusting that Merry would catch him. He'd barely regained his hobbit-y self when the Mayor opened the door and called out to them.

The light from the mayor’s lamp caught on an object just inside the door and Bilbo was sure that he saw dwarrow runes, he made a note to himself to check out that area in more depth the next day.

“Master Baggins?... Ah, there you are. Well, now, what do the lads think of the place? It’s a right old mess isn’t it? We keep meaning to sort it all out and tidy up a bit, but it never quite happens. Let me lock up and I’ll light the way for you back to the Inn’s guest smials.” The portly old hobbit said.

“Thank you, Mayor Potts. The lads were fascinated with some things and less so with others, I couldn’t find mother’s tea service, though, ah well, we’ll look again tomorrow.” Bilbo replied.

“Tea service... was that in here? I didn’t know she’d left it with us.”

“Oh, yes. It was gifted to her from Elrond of Rivendell, but she never understood why he gave it to her at her wedding, many years later a ranger in Bree explained it to her. For elves, men and possibly in dwarf-culture too, people **_receive_** gifts on their birthdays, at weddings and other major anniversaries, instead of giving them. Most peculiar, isn’t it?” Bilbo chattered along.

Back in the guest smial, they ate the meal that Keeper Blaygrove’s wife brought them, roasted mutton, vegetables, rolls and a pie for dessert. Afterwards, they’d cleaned up and done all the dishes, loading them into the large basked left for that purpose, then they waited patiently until nearly midnight, listening to Bilbo tell more of his quest, before climbing out the window of an unlit bedroom, they crept across the yard, over the fence and with a boost, Merry was lifted onto the Mathom-House roof, he inched his way up to the cupola and the items they’d stashed. Quickly and quietly he sent each one sliding down the grassy slope of the Mathom-House’s roof, into the arms of a hobbit. When all the packs were accounted for and the canvas bundle had reached the ground they retraced their steps back into the smial.

In the hallway of the smial they opened out the canvas bundle and each of them took an item, they would, one at a time, sneak back out and into the village proper where they would leave the items to be found come morning.


	6. Heirlooms of the Line of Durin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Durin heirlooms... in more ways than one.  
> The Nas of Bag End increases by one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additions and edits - 21-Aug

Come morning and the hobbits were keen to actually look at the items in the Mathom-House, now that they’d got what they’d come for and had time to enjoy the outing. After a filling breakfast they ambled their way around to the front entrance to the museum. Greeting the guard they entered the dusty building again.

Bilbo remembered the light from the mayor’s lamp reflecting off of what he thought were Khuzdul runes and went hunting for them. It took him nearly an hour, but he found them. It was a bow and scabbard-quiver, a Dwarroven bow and scabbard-quiver, how in the seven hells of Mordor  had they got here and was he going to get them out of the Mathom-house? He lifted them clear of the other items and nearly dropped them in shock when he read the runes on the upper and lower limbs, it clearly read, ‘this bow is made for Durin, sixth of this name, may it shoot ever true’. **_Durin_**. He was holding a bow and sword that belonged to Durin. It could not stay here, it deserved to be reunited with the sons of it’s master.

Before Bilbo could move away, he spotted another dwarrow rune. This time a set of daggers and one a cord wrapped around the hilt had beads on it. A closer look and Bilbo again read the rune symbol for the House of Durin, the beads, too bore the same symbol, his hand reached out and gathered it to him, these items would not be staying, but how to get them back to the smial, when a guard stood at the door?

“Bilbo? What have you found?” Bilbo turned to Frodo.

“These belong with dwarrow, Frodo, I can’t leave them here, they belong to the royal family of Durin’s Folk. They have to be returned to them.”

Frodo looked at the items for a bit, he cocked his head to the side, in what Bilbo had come to call, his thinking tilt.

“The daggers, we can slip them into your waistband at the back, under your waistcoat, it and your coat will cover it… But the bow and… is that quiver or a scabbard? Not that it matters. The only way to get that out is the same we got the packs out. Up. And there’s just too many people about, Bilbo. I think we’re going to have to come back for them tonight.” Frodo groaned as Pippin joined them.

“I was in the back room and I found these. Are they Dwarroven?” The youngest hobbit asked, holding out a leather thong strung with more dwarrow beads, this time Bilbo recognised many names, Daín first of that name, Óin the first, Naín the second, Farin, Thorin the first and again Durin. He gently scooped them into his hands and his fingers traced rune after rune after rune, finally he looked up and tears hung on his lashes.

“These are heirlooms of many dwarrow, all of them of the line of Durin, these must have been lost or traded away when Thorin and his people fled Erebor and the dragon. These will be treasured, Pippin.” He reverently wrapped them in a handkerchief and slipped them into the hidden pocket of his coat, before Frodo carefully tucked the daggers and their scabbards into the back of Bilbo’s trousers. They’d just lowered the edge of his coat when the guard stuck his head in the door and said that the Mayor was asking for them.

“Master Baggins? I’m sorry to cut you short, especially after I assured you yesterday, that you and your lads could have all the time they liked in here. But… we have an… issue… that is going to force me to close the Mathom-House. That pranking, I told you about? Well, it seems that they’ve decided to include the Mathom-House, now. A number of items were found in different places in town. They even hung a tapestry from the lamp-post at the milestone.” The Mayor looked exhausted and it wasn’t yet morning tea time.

“A lamp-post? That takes some skill, Mayor Potts.” Bilbo only knew of one hobbit capable of doing that, but given the look of disgruntled surprise on Pippin’s face, he suspected the hobbit wasn’t responsible. Which means… they could have been seen. Oh, stars, he prayed they hadn’t. But this would mean no chance to get the bow and quiver, blast it. Time to be very un-hobbit-y.

“Mayor Potts, if I may? I know your day has suddenly become more… complicated and I am loath to make it more, but…? I’ve spotted something here that I feel I should make you aware of.”

“Master Baggins, while I’m in here with you, Nitty and the Shirrif Locket won’t be after me to hunt down the lads responsible. Please, please, continue.” The mayor almost begged.

“It’s just,… I told you yesterday that the lads and I are travelling to Rivendell later this month, with a company of dwarves that Gandalf located.” Bilbo paused, he disliked that word and decided to further the relationship between hobbits and dwarrow. “Well, actually the word isn’t dwarves at all, it’s dwarrow, according to those I've spoken with. But never mind that. The leader of the company we will be travelling with, is Thorin Oakenshield.”

“That’s a good strong name, that is.” The mayor said.

“And he’s a good strong dwarf, Mayor Potts, but that’s not all he is. You know that dwarrow have much longer lives than hobbits, don’t you? Good, good. Well about 170 years ago the dwarrow were forced from their ancestral home by the dragon, Smaug, Thorin was forced to become their king thirty years later when his grandfather died in battle. Thorin is their king-in-exile.” As Bilbo told the mayor of the dwarrow being forced from Erebor, the mayor’s shoulders tightened and he stood straighter, every hobbit knew that the Shire wasn’t the ancestral home of the hobbits, that lay far to the east near the Gladden Fields and Lothlorien.

“That is a Company indeed, Master Baggins, but I fail to see how that relates to our Mathom-House?”

“Over here, please.” Bilbo brought the other hobbit to where he’d secreted the bow, sword and quiver-scabbard. “This here is Dwarroven make, but see here?” He indicated to the runes on the limbs. “These are Dwarroven runes and while I’m not supposed to know their language, Gandalf Greyhame taught me the basics some years back,” he ran his finger down the runes as he translated for the others, “these say, ‘this bow is made for Durin, sixth of this name, may it shoot ever true’. This bow and blade must have been traded by Thorin’s people when they were forced into exile.” The mayor’s face wrinkled in confusion.

“Traded? Why would he trade away the heirlooms of his family?”

“To feed that family, he would trade away **_everything_** that meant **_anything_** at all to him, that his brother, sister and sister-sons could eat and live. He would trade, I think, even his own life. Thank Yavanna, it did not come to that. But… these… I would like to see them returned to their rightful owner.”

“Oh, yes, most definitely. What did you have in mind?” The mayor asked, curious to know.

“Thorin is a very proud dwarf and would not easily accept these back from the Mathom-House, but from an individual…? Perhaps. I would like to buy them from the Mathom-House and give them to Thorin’s family, as a gift, maybe a token of thanks for them allowing us to travel with them.”

“Oh, I can’t let you buy them, Master Baggins… But maybe we can come to an agreement?”

“Maybe. What are your terms?” Bargaining? Bilbo wasn’t the best at bargaining, but for his dwarrow, he would do his best.

“I know you're very learned, Master Baggins. Do you read elvish? Our healers have a book and while our healer, loremaster and Nitty have done their best, there is one recipe for knockout treatment that they can’t translate all the ingredients for. Would you have a go? In exchange for **_trying_** , the Mathom-House will happily give you any dwarrow(?) items you might find. In fact.” At this point the mayor paused and turned, he yelled to the shirrif to send in a few recruits, he has a task for them. Turning back to Bilbo he continued. “Now, I’ve got you some extra eyes. You tell the lads, here, how to tell if something’s of dwarrow origin and they’ll help your lads in looking. I’ll send Nitty and the healer over with that book and you do your best.” The mayor didn’t wait for Bilbo to make a counter offer,… to what he offered, there _**was**_ no counter. If Bilbo made a genuine effort, he could have any dwarrow items found. He felt silly about the knives in his waistband, now. He would, if given a chance slip them into the growing pile of dwarrow items.

An hour later, missus Blagrove brought them, and their helpers, a tray of pies and a huge pot of tea for luncheon. Bilbo had finished translating the elven recipe for a drug to make people sleep while a healer could work on them and Nitty had asked if he would assist in transcribing another text... after lunch, of course.

By 4 o’clock, Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin and their extra eyes had been over the Mathom-House with a proverbial fine-toothed comb. The pile of things in the entrance foyer had grown and while it wasn’t huge, it was significant. It was made of mostly weapons, swords, daggers, knives, a shield, another bow, some clothes and beads. The odd thing out was a chain-mail coat that did up in the front with a multitude of small buckles, the thing weighed nearly as much as a hobbit, for heaven’s sake.

The mayor sent the helpers to carry all the spoils of their search back to their guest smial, the parlour beginning to resemble something of an armoury, as a result. Missus Blagrove sent along one of the children with some apple tarts as a thank you and a message that she would see to having supper and dinner brought along later, as well as the makings of some soup for travelling. Sam and Bilbo puttered about the kitchen getting that together, while Frodo supervised the shirrif’s lads.

After a hasty afternoon tea, the five Bag End hobbits sat in the parlour looking at the stash of things they’d unexpectedly acquired.

“Bilbo? What are we supposed to do with all this?” Frodo said, quietly.

“Some of it, we’ll just give to Thorin, but some, I suggest we keep some back, to Gift at appropriate times. Some of these are heirlooms, but most aren’t. The bow? At some point, I’d like to give that to Kíli and this set of daggers to Fíli.” Bilbo answered.

“And what of these? They have similar runes.” Merry handed Bilbo a pair of arm guards, the vambraces still holding their throwing knives securely. Bilbo ran an eye over them, the runes were similar but slightly different. His eyes widened when he realised what he held, in his hands were the vambraces of Thorin’s father, Thráin.

“Oh, stars.” He breathed.

“Bilbo?” Frodo asked a little worried at the hobbit’s pale face.

“Lads, I told you what I know of Thorin’s early life? Well these, here, they belonged to his father.” Sam raised a hand. “Yes, Sam?”

“Was that the one that died at Azanulbizar? Did I say it right?” The hobbit asked.

“Yes, Sam. He did and you did, too. Well done.”

A scraggly looking dwarf burst in the door.

“ ** _Who are you?! How do you know that word? Who told you? That’s our forbidden language._** **_Outsiders aren’t allowed to know it_**.” He snarled. Hobbits fell off chairs in surprise.

Bilbo stood and calmly looked at the dwarf. Dirty hair, muddy face, but bright clear eyes, he knew those eyes. Oh, sweet Yavanna, he knew those eyes.

“Master Dwarf, welcome to Michel Delving. Many years ago Gandalf Greyhame taught me Khuzdul, but it was only recently, that I discovered it was a secret language. My sincerest apologies, but we used the word not as a historical reference, but a map location.”

The dwarf huffed and swayed. Bilbo and Sam, brave Sam, darted across the room and caught the dwarf before he collapsed.

“Easy now, easy. Sit down here. Frodo, some of that broth, if you please. Now, Master dwarf, will you allow introductions?” The dwarf nodded, still swaying slightly in the grasp of the two hobbits. “Good, good. Frodo’s gone to get you some soup, you look like you can use a feed. I’m Bilbo and Sam’s got your other arm.” Sam said a quiet ‘hi’. “These two over the here are Merry,” Merry lifted a hand in acknowledgement, “and Pippin.” Pippin did the same. “And you master dwarf? Who are you?”

Bilbo had never seen a dwarf as devastated, not even after Thorin, Fíli and Kíli died at Ravenshill. But this dwarf was **_truly_** devastated.

“I… I… I don’t know.” He whimpered. “I don’t remember, I was at Azanulbizar, but I don’t know who I am. I know our history, our language, our culture, I know I had a brother I called Rin and a sister, Díssi, but I know nothing about myself. I tried, but I’m not a smith, I can’t swing a hammer and I can’t manage a sword or an axe. I’m a useless dwarf. The only thing about myself I know is that my brother and sister called me Ferri, it’s **_not_** my name, though, I know that, but I don’t know what my name **_is_**.” He groaned.

Surely it wasn’t…? Was this…? Could it be…?

“Well, now, Master Dwarf, it’s a good thing you burst through our door. You’ve given me a lot of information with that little vent, so let’s get you cleaned up and see if I’m right. Ah, thank you, Frodo. Drink slowly, Ferri, you don’t want to be sick, now. Sam, would you see about getting some eggs together for once Ferri has had a bath?”

“Yes, Mister Bilbo.” Sam replied.

“Why are you doing this? No one wants to help me. They all push me away. A dwarf that can’t lay claim to a Family Line is outcast. Hobbits let me stay for a while, but even they don’t give help without something in return.”

“Two reasons, Ferri. One, I think I know who you are and if I’m right, you have been sorely missed. Two, my mother would smack me upside the head if I didn’t, she was all about helping those in need.”

“Thank you. I... thank you.”

“Thank me later, when you’re clean and have a full stomach. For now, if you’ve finished that broth, let’s get you in a tub and clean, yes?” Bilbo and Sam heaved the dwarf to his feet and guided his stumbling steps to the bathroom, where Bilbo shooed Sam out, bad enough for the dwarf’s dignity that he couldn’t manage on his own, he didn’t need two hobbits helping him strip and wash.

An hour and three tubs of water later, the dwarf was nearly sparkling, he was that clean and being clean meant washing his hair, that had let Bilbo see the nasty scar from where a blade had almost ended his life and caused the loss of his memory. Bilbo helped him dress in some of the clothes from the Mathom-House and finally the two made their way back to the parlour and a plate of eggs for the dwarf.

“Feeling better, now?” Merry asked, setting down a dwarf-sized mug of peppermint tea.

“Yes, thank you,… Merry wasn’t it? I feel much better. Mister Bilbo? Where did you find Dwarroven clothing?”

“Now, that is a story. Do you like stories, Frerin?” Bilbo asked, deliberately using the dwarf’s real name and not the nickname his siblings had given him.

“Oh, yes, I love listening to the loremasters tell their-… Mister Bilbo? What did you call me?” The dwarf frowned as he asked.

“Frerin. Now that you’re clean, I am certain, beyond a doubt, that you are Frerin, brother to Thorin and Dís.”

“How do know? What makes you certain?”

“You have the same eyes as Thorin, a brilliant bright Durin blue and the same hair as Thorin’s sister-son, Fíli. Let me tell you a tale and then you’ll understand.”

“Alright.” Frerin replied, startled.

“I sat on the bench in my front yard, my pipe in my hand.-” Bilbo went on to tell Frerin of his quest, his life and their journey to Valinor. He explained how the five of them had been sent back and of the Gift of shape-shifting. Their trip to Michel Delving and the Mathom-House, all the Dwarroven items that they’d traded Bilbo’s language skills to get.

“When Merry handed me these,” he showed Frerin the vambraces, “it took me a few moments, but I read the runes, I read the name of Thorin’s father, Thráin. That was when Sam asked if he was the one to fall at Azanulbizar. I’m sorry, your father was killed in the battle, Frerin.”

“Father? I… I… I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“That's fine, you can think about that, later. Now, let’s sort through this shall we? We’ll be heading out reasonably early in the morning and I want us all packed tonight.” Bilbo said, reaching for a throwing axe.

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” Frerin asked alarm on his face.

“No, **_we_** are leaving tomorrow. You **_are_** coming with us, aren’t you? In a fortnight Thorin will be knocking on our door and we think you should be there, too.” Frodo answered.

“Me? Come with you? I… I don’t want to be alone, again.” It was said so quietly, the hobbits barely made out the words.

“Good. That’s settled them. Merry, would you go ask keeper Blaygrove if he can find us either another pony or if not, ask about a saddle for Apple? Thank you, lad.” Bilbo requested, as Merry nodded and left quietly.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Mister Bilbo, or you Frodo, or Merry, or-”

“Now, now, lad. That’s enough.” Bilbo cut the dwarf off before he could name all five of them, there were other things more important, right now. “We don’t need anything. For now, just help us sort through all this… stuff.” Bilbo huffed.


	7. The Dwarf of Bag End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Dwarf joins the Nas of Bag End.  
> Gandalf turns up again.  
> Frerin learns who's coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additions and edits - 21-Aug

A hearty breakfast and a half hour spent reshuffling their packs, the items from the Mathom-House and the few items they’d purchased for Frerin and they were ready to go. After Merry had realised how long it had been since Frerin had ridden a pont, he’d swapped the new riding pony for their sweet Apple. At least with Apple they knew that even in his still weakened state, Frerin would be able to manage the ride back to Bag End. Merry also asked Bilbo if Frerin would be joining them on the trek east and when Bilbo agreed that it was most likely, Merry suggested stopping at Bywater and asking the Bounder Jonath to find them another Rohirrim-type pony. That way they could keep Apple as their pack pony and trade the mountain pony as part payment on the new Rohirrim pony.

An hour into the ride and Frerin was starting to relax, finally. Bilbo and Merry rode one on each side of him, where possible, this gave the dwarf a sense of security, not so much for being safe on the pony, but more for a sense of emotional security. It was clear that being outcast by dwarrow, had caused Frerin to feel abandoned by them, with hobbits one of the few races to not revile him on sight and so he saw them as safe.

Bilbo and Frodo were a little concerned about what type of lasting damage this had left on the dwarf’s emotional state, but that was something that only time would tell. In the mean time, it was up to the hobbits to feed and do what they could to restore Frerin’s health and sense of worth. To further that, Bilbo offered Frerin a pair of long daggers and one of the bows, but the dwarf was unsure of whether or not he could use them. At lunch Bilbo had pulled Frerin aside and handed him the bow, suggesting some target practice, while it may have surprised Frerin, Bilbo remembered what Thorin had told him as they travelled east. Frerin was as good an archer, maybe better, as Kíli, it would be interesting to see the two stand against each other.

Stopping at Waymeet's Inn, for a night’s rest, the hobbits were woken in the night by Frerin’s nightmares.

“What are we supposed to do, now?” Sam whispered.

“Come on, lads. Dwarrow have a different idea of personal distance. Pull those covers down here.” As he said this, Bilbo was pulling the blankets from his bed and making a pallet up on the floor, when the other hobbits had used theirs to do the same, Bilbo told the lads to lay down and watched for a few seconds until they got comfortable, before reaching up and tapping Frerin’s leg. The dwarf woke with a start, sitting up and swinging his arms about, realising that there was no danger, he looked at where Bilbo and the hobbits lay.

“Come on, Frerin, down here.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Bilbo.” The dwarf protested.

“Frerin, trust me. You need the contact. Now, get down here.” Bilbo demanded, pulling the dwarf’s leg until he was half off the bed.

“Alright, alright. Pushy hobbit.” Bilbo grinned at Frerin’s grumble, that he was comfortable enough to gripe was a good thing.

With no more disturbances, the six slept sounding for the rest of the night. Frodo was, as usual, the first awake, he was startled to find himself wrapped securely in the dwarf’s arms, his shoulder being used as a pillow, but what caused him to snicker under his breath was the fact that Bilbo and Sam were both using the dwarf as a pillow, Sam, his legs and Bilbo’s head was resting in the small of the dwarf’s back. This was the first time that Frodo had a chance to look at the dwarf without the other’s frame being wracked with tension.

Blonde hair, gold as a wheat field in the midday sun, hints of caramel and cinnamon shining through and catching the light. Tall... well, tall for a hobbit, maybe not for a dwarf, and slender, not nearly as bulky as Frodo had thought, given the style of clothes. His eyes were blue, but not just any blue, they were what Frodo, thanks to Bilbo’s definitions, thought Durin blue would look like, the sky at early afternoon in summer, bright, strong and vibrant.

And open. Open?

Oh, stars. Frerin just looked at him, a gaze with no challenges, no questions, just quiet calm and recognition. Recognition of what, Frodo had no idea. The two stayed like that, maintaining eye contact, with the dwarf’s arm thrown over the hobbit's waist.

Bilbo was the next to stir, he sighed and rolled away from Frerin and Frodo and to his feet in a single move that Frodo envied. He looked down at the puppy-pile of hobbits and dwarf and a sweet sad smile twisted his lips.

He signalled to Frodo that he would stoke the fire and put a kettle on. Doing this he watched the dwarf and Frodo, a frown on his face before his eyes widened and a knowing glint appeared. Frodo wondered what his uncle was thinking, what he knew. He would have to ask him later.

Sam mumble and climbed to his feet, nearly tripping over Merry and Pippin as they lay curled at Frerin’s feet. The two grumbled and began the process of getting upright and ready to face the day.

“You _**willingly**_ did this for months, Bilbo?” When the hobbit nodded, Pippin muttered. “Always knew you were cracked in the head.”

“And you want **_us_** to do this, again?” groaned Sam.

“For _**months**_?” Merry whimpered.

“You truly are, the Mad Baggins, aren’t you, Bilbo?” Frodo spoke for the first time. Frerin frowned at the comment.

“Yep.” Chirped Bilbo. “You’ve no idea how **_good_** it felt when Lobelia started calling me that. It was grand.”

“You like being called mad?” Frerin asked.

“You have to understand that hobbits are, not quite insular, but retiring. Bilbo, here, isn’t. At all. He chats with anyone that will listen. He feeds everyone, treats them all the same, he doesn’t care who you are, what your position is in life, if you show him respect, then that’s what you’ll get back from him.” Frodo said earnestly.

“Mister Bilbo is a good un. He’ll help anyone that needs it.” Sam added.

“Bilbo tell tales to the little ones, gives them treats and shows them how to make leaves float in the air.” Merry put in.

“He knows the best trees for climbing and for fruit, he makes the tastiest cakes and biscuits.” Pippin added his tuppence worth.

“And _**that**_ is why some of the stuffier hobbits of the Shire call me, ‘mad’. Let them, I’ve more important things to do than to worry about unhappy people.” Bilbo ended the subject.

“If that’s **_really_** why they call you, ‘mad’? Then all I can say is, ‘I salute you Mad Baggins’. Now, could someone help unroll me from this net of blankets. I need to visit the bathroom.” Frerin grinned. For the first time, the hobbits were seeing hints of a personality being shown by the dwarf, a cheeky, sunny troublemaker, just like the two youngest hobbits.

 

Sunset and Bag End, finally.

Merry and Pippin told the others they would see to the ponies, they were getting a small herd by this time, and there just wasn’t enough room for all the riders to see to their ponies, at the same time. Bilbo lead the dwarf and the hobbits inside, Frodo and Sam showed Frerin the room that they were using, Bilbo had cornered Frodo earlier in the day and told him bluntly, dwarrow when injured or stressed, liked to sleep in contact with others, it created a sense of security and as Frodo was the one that Frerin had turned during the night, it was he who was going to have to get used to sharing a bed. At least, for the moment. Bilbo got the fires lit and started getting together the makings of a light snack to tide them over until a heartier stew was ready for a late dinner.

The next two weeks were a busy time for the Nas of Bag End, learning to use the weapons that Elrond had given the Bullroarer, was not the easiest task. Merry had some training from the Rohirrim and Pippin had some from Gondor, while Bilbo knew some Dwarroven moves and also some elven footwork. Sam being the most practical of the lot of them, took each person aside and went through what they knew and compiled a list of moves and stances, but putting them altogether and making a usable style out of it was turning out to be very difficult.

But all adult hobbits knew Yavanna's control dances, Bilbo and the other hobbits used these to regain physical and emotional control after disastrous sessions with swords or daggers, so when Frerin suggested using those moves and adding long daggers or their swords, well, that made the most sense. From Hobbit-ish control dances to offensive weaponry moves was such a small change that the hobbits felt that they would be able to hold their own in a fight or at the least, not embarrass themselves. Bilbo assigned Pippin and Frerin as their archery tutors and hunted through his mother’s boxes for her archery things, finding the bow damaged but the arrows all in good condition and were added to the arsenal. Getting Frerin to spar with them, took a few days, but when he stood with a long-dagger in each hand, there was surprise on his face. He told them later that the surprise was... that he **_knew_** what to do, how to stand, how to block, how to strike and how use the daggers in his hands to cause the most amount of damage possible to an opponent with the least risk to himself.

After that their sparring and fight sessions were had many times a day. They had first breakfast, followed by a sword session, and second breakfast, then it was tending the ponies and shifting. Luncheon was followed by knife throwing and hand-to-hand combat. Afternoon tea and another sword session, with an archery session leading to dinner. After dinner they worked on their equipment, armour and travel clothes to get them just right.

Poor Frerin nearly had heart failure when they shifted for the first time, while Bilbo and Frodo had told him about the Valar-Gift, seeing it was something else entirely. When Pippin shifted into his pine marten form and bounced around the kitchen, until Bilbo yelled at him, Frerin sat down very quickly and flinched every time Pippin so much as twitched. When Merry shifted into his wolf-form, Frerin was out of his chair and pushing Frodo and Bilbo behind him. When Sam shifted into his owl shape, Frerin crawled under the table pulling Frodo and Bilbo along with him. When Bilbo shifted into his lynx, Frerin hugged Frodo tightly to his chest. When Frodo, still being held by Frerin started to shift, Frerin’s eyes widened, he whimpered in fear and scurried out from under the table and pushed himself into a corner of the kitchen.

Bilbo and Merry crouched low and edged forward, nudging and rubbing their heads on the dwarf’s legs, Pippin, as careless as ever, slid between the wolf and the lynx, he crawled up the dwarf’s legs and up his chest until he draped himself across the dwarf’s shoulder and attempted to bury his head in a golden beard. Frodo took offense to this, he took flight and hovering, he reached out with his beak and gently but firmly took hold of Pippin’s tail and dragged him off the dwarf’s shoulder, taking that place for himself and running his beak through the dwarf’s hair.

Bilbo was the first to shift back, then Sam, followed by Merry and Pippin, Frodo seemed comfortable where he was and Frerin was doing everything he could to ignore the beak that was carding his hair and nudging his ear occasionally. It took three days before Frerin decided that shifting wasn’t so bad and while they were hesitant to change that by using their warg-shift, but they needed the ponies familiar with their wargs and that mean that they had to introduce them to Frerin, first.

Seeing Pippin’s cheeky little pine marten morph into a great hulking inky black warg, was startling, true, but by that time he was able to see the glint of Pippin still inside the beast, it’s eyes were still Pippin’s eyes, no warg had green eyes. Or in Frodo’s case, bright blue eyes. That Frerin handled the warg-shifts better than the smaller ones, was entertaining for the hobbits and a gentle ribbing was given, as a result.

By the time Gandalf made it back to Bag End, Bilbo had received a letter from the wizard stating that he would drop in some time on Friday the 25th and that the dwarrow were due to reach Hobbiton close to sunset on the Saturday evening. Bilbo was unsure of what to tell the wizard about their dwarf, by now the hobbits had completely adopted the dwarf and he had began to bloom again. The hobbits were amazed at the recuperative abilities of dwarrow, within days, the dwarf had gained weight, stood taller and even had the energy to participate in their training sessions.

 

Gandalf’s knock on the door of Bag End a little before morning tea on Saturday, had Bilbo patting Frerin, reassuringly on the shoulder, as he left the kitchen.

“It’ll be fine, don’t stress. Gandalf is an old friend, I’ve known him since I was a faunt.” The hobbit said as he headed for the front hall. He opened the door and greeted the wizard.

“About time you got here. Into the parlour for the moment, there’s been a… an addition to Bag End.”

“I don’t think that-” the wizard started.

“Please let me finish, Gandalf, I need to say this right.” When the wizard nodded, Bilbo continued. “Good, thank you. We went to Michel Delving like we said we were going to, we got the gear, but we also got a few other… things. Gandalf… we found a dwarf, he…”

“A dwarf. Bilbo-”

“Gandalf, **_please_** , let me finish. He… he had no memory, I mean he knew he was a dwarf, he knew their culture, he who their king **_was_** , he knew that he had a brother and a sister, he even knew that they called him ‘Ferri’, but he also **_knew_** that wasn’t his name. But he had no idea what his name _**was**_ or what his Family Line was, and you know how dwarrow get when you can’t give your lineage.”

“Oh, dear.” Gandalf said, slumping back in his chair.

“Indeed. But there’s more to it than that, Gandalf. We fed him, cleaned him up and gave him new clothes, Gandalf, I’d never met him before, but I knew him, _**instantly**_.” As Bilbo said this, the wizard up straight and leant forward.

“You knew him? How? Who is he? How can you be certain he’s telling the truth?”

In the kitchen, Frerin heard the wizard’s voice and he, too sat up straight, he turned to Frodo and spoke.

“I know that voice. That’s [Tharkûn](Gandalf).” With that the dwarf got to his feet and quickly moved around the table and through the archway into the parlour, Bilbo’s eye widened when he saw Frerin, but the grin on the dwarf’s face let him relax.

“[Tharkûn](Gandalf)?”

Gandalf spun in his seat, his eyes opening wide and his jaw dropping in shock. He just looked at the dwarf for nearly a full minute, before… laughing. A great belly shaking laugh, that filled the rooms of the smial, it brought a smile to Bilbo’s face.

“Bilbo Baggins, I hope you never cease to amaze me. Let this be a lesson, young dwarf, you can learn all there is to know about hobbits in a month, but even after a hundred years they will surprise you. Did Bilbo tell you who he thinks you are?” The wizard said, after getting himself back under control.

“He told that he thinks I’m Frerin, brother to Thorin and Dís, but he said that anything more than that had to wait until you got here. Why? What else is there to know?” Frerin asked.

“Hmm. Let’s start with current events. Who do you remember as king?” Gandalf asked.

“Thrór. Thrór was king when we went to battle at Azanulbizar. Is he…? Is he still king?” Frerin was hesitant to say the word.

“No, Frerin, I’m sorry to say that Thrór died there, Azog took his head, but with his son missing presumed dead, his grandson stepped forward and cut the Orc’s hand from his body, thus ending the battle. The new king believes you dead. He… he will be pleased to hear otherwise.”

“Me? Why would he be pleased to know I’m alive, I’m just… me.”

Bilbo swallowed a laugh at that comment.

“What? What am I missing?” the dwarf asked.

“Frerin, I want you to think **_very_** carefully, remember **_everything_** I told you about your family, about who’s coming here and I want you think back further, try and remember your dwarfling years, your schooling. Take a few minutes and then answer that question for yourself.” Bilbo urged. “Now, while he thinking about that, there’s something else you need to know Gandalf.”

“What now, Bilbo?”

 _"[Frodo e i casar, sam-e ëala-yanwë, tú-e enda vérë.](Frodo%20and%20the%20dwarf,%20they%20have%20spirit%20joined,%20they%E2%80%99re%20Heart%20Bonded)_ ” The hobbit said in Quenyan, not knowing if Frerin spoke Sindarin or not and uncertain if either he or Frodo had worked out what they were to the other. Heart Bonds were rare for dwarrow and Bilbo didn’t want to interfere if it could be avoided.

“ _[Enda vér](Heart%20Bonded)[ë](Heart%20Bonded)? _ Oh, dear, I’m not sure how Tho- the leader of the Company is going to feel about that.”

“Well, he’s just going to have to get used to it. If things go the same way they did last time, at least in the beginning, that won’t be the only _[enda vérë](Heart%20Bonded) _ with a hobbit. And anyway he didn’t object last time.”

“What do mean...? No, never mind, I don’t want to know. What do you plan to tell them, about you five being Restored? Will you tell them anything?”

“We’ll have to tell them something. Frodo and I have talked it through and we feel that we should tell Thorin of my life and our sailing west and that the Valar have sent us back to help them. Their quest is just, Gandalf, even Elrond admitted that. If Melkor hadn’t corrupted the dragons, Smaug would never have been large enough to driven Thráin from Erebor.”

“And do you plan to tell them of who died last time?”

“No, not who... but that there were deaths, yes. That we are returned to see that those deaths do not happen again. Gandalf, they deserve to have their home back.” Bilbo saw Frerin sit up suddenly, as though jolted.

“Frerin?” he asked.

“Bloody hobbits and their keeping secrets! You better tell Thorin the truth or so help me, hobbit…? That’s my brother you’re talking about… My brother… and... and my… king.” His eyes went wild for a moment. “That makes me a… a… Oh, Mahal, I can’t even say it.” He snarled.

Bilbo grinned.

“Would you like me to say it instead… your highness? That makes you a prince. Prince Frerin of the Line of Durin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór.”

“[Idmém Sharbragán](Bloody%20Hobbits).” The dwarf groaned.

“Yeah, yeah. [Birâthhur melba, khazd](get%20stuffed,%20dwarf).” Threw the insult back at Frerin, without thinking.

Frerin blinked and began to laugh.

“You best watch yourself, Bilbo, Thorin and other dwarrow won’t be pleased by you speaking Khuzdul.”

“Well, isn’t that just too bad. Anyway, we can blame be being sent back by the Valar for that.”

“Really? I thought it was Gandalf that taught you?” The dwarf cheekily asked.

“Me? Oh, no. I’m not responsible for that.” The wizard interjected.

“Actually, you are, but not in this life. After Thorin’s quest, I travelled with you back to the Shire and on the way, we stopped at Beorn’s for the winter, it was there that you taught me Khuzdul.” Bilbo corrected.

“Hmm… yes, it might be best to leave it as part of your Valar-Gift. Are you going to tell them of the shape-shifting?”

“We have to. They need to know. We can’t just spring it on them in the middle of a fight, they’re likely to see us as a threat, but if we show them, before we leave? If we give them time to become accustomed to it.” A sudden thought occurred to Bilbo. “Gandalf, where are the dwarrow, right now? Today?”

“I left them at the Green Dragon.”

“Oh, no, that won’t work. Go fetch them, tell Thorin we’ll feed and house them tonight. Bring them here. Frerin? Are you ready to see your brother?”

“No... definitely not. Bilbo, I **_still_** don’t remember anything about my life, my personal life that is. I can’t picture him or my sister, but I can hear his voice, a deep strong voice, powerful, the sort you want to listen to. But I have **_no_** idea what he **_looks_** like.”

“Ah, there I can help. Gandalf? Why are you still here? Get moving. Blasted Istari. Frerin, stay here.” Bilbo got to his feet and hustled the wizard out the door, before dashing to his study. He flicked through a sheath of papers, but instead of bringing just one page with him, he brought the whole pile.

Back in the parlour he sat beside Frerin.

“Merry, Pippin, Sam, Frodo. Come in here, please.” When they were all gathered, he spoke again. “Frerin just called my attention to the fact that I haven’t shown you lot, any of these or told you exactly who’s coming tonight. Let me introduce you to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.” He held up a page.

It was a sketch of a dwarf, he had a mostly bald head, covered in tattoos and had a bristling moustache. He wore a cloak over a great fur mantle, a harness crossing his chest in the shape of an X, held his axes strapped to his back. With a War Hammer in his hands and daggers at his waist, he looked like a warrior.

“This is-” started.

 

Nas of Bag End = Family of Bag End

 _Frodo e i casar, sam-e ëala-yanw_ _ë, t_ _ú-e  endav_ _ér_ _ë_

Frodo and the dwarf, they have spirit joined, they’re heart bonded.

 _Enda v_ _ér_ _ë_ = Spirit bond

Idmém Sharbragán = bloody hobbits - lit. trans = bleeding + hobbits (rude term)

Birâthhur melba, khazd = get stuffed, dwarf.


	8. Meeting the Nas of Bag End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the hobbits... and their dwarf.  
> Thorin get a shock  
> So does Frerin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added Links  
> If you hover your cursor over a link, it will give you the translation.
> 
> Additions and edits - 21-Aug

“Alright, lads, give me a hand to get this up to the tree, will, you? I’m not having them throwing food all over my nice clean dining room, again.” Bilbo said.

All five took an armful of food, in baskets, and followed the golden haired hobbit as he went out the front door, down the steps, up another set of steps and stopped underneath the oak tree that stood proudly above the smial.

“Thank you, lads. Now, best get yourselves back inside, I’ll call you when it’s time for introductions.” Bilbo said, as he fussed around unloading dishes.

“I’m staying, Bilbo. We agreed, I’m staying with you. Merry, Pip and the others can go back inside, but I’m staying.” Frodo refused to move.

“Frodo, I’m not saying you can’t be here, but I’m hoping to explain a little to the dwarrow **_before_** we spring Frerin on them.”

“Why would springing me on them be a bad thing?” Frerin asked.

“Oh, Frerin.” He sighed. “They think you’re dead, remember? Explaining to them first might make it easier for them to accept, when they do see you.”

“Oh, I forgot that. Sorry.” Frerin’s shoulders slumped.

“No, no need for that. We’ve sprung a lot of things on you in a short amount of time and you've been coping grandly. Don’t you worry about it. Take the lads and head back inside, please. Let me talk to the dwarrow for a bit before you all come out. I’ll ring the chimney bell when it’s time for you to come up. Alright?”

“Alright, Bilbo.” Frerin said, grabbing Frodo by the hand and dragging him back down the steps, followed by Merry, Pippin and Sam. That Heart Bond of theirs was going to come in handy at slowing Frodo down and getting him to do things.

Less than five minutes later, Bilbo spotted Gandalf making his way back up Bag Shot Row, a small group of dwarrow in tow. A small group? That’s not right. Bilbo checked again, maybe the others were just lagging behind.

No. He counted only five dwarrow, why only five? What had Gandalf done, now?

“Gandalf.” He called as the wizard opened the gate to Bag End. “Up here, Gandalf. My dining room would be a bit cramped for the twenty of us. And speaking of that, Gandalf? I thought there were 13 dwarrow, but unless some of them are either really small, or invisible or there’s a few missing. Why?”

“Ah, Bilbo, I thought this best to bring Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Dwalin and Óin first. There’s that matter you said you needed to explain to Thorin and I though you might prefer those most effected, be told first.” The wizard said.

“Oh... Well... That might be a good idea.” He allowed. “Gentlemen, come sit down and we’ll have some lunch and get down to business. Yes?”

Thorin bowed and spoke.

“Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór. You are the Nas of Bag End? And yet, Gandalf called you, ‘Bilbo’, did he not?” Thorin was being as disdainful as possible, Bilbo was sure of it.

“I am **_part_** of the Nas of Bag End.” He corrected. “I am Bilbo Baggins, son of Bungo, son of Mungo, current Head of my Family. Welcome to Bag End, Thorin. No need to stand on ceremony, sit down and dig in.”

“Part of the Nas? What is the Nas? Where is the rest of it?” Thorin demanded.

“Nas is… Nas is a term in the Green Tongue, it doesn’t translate all that well, but the closest approximation would be… ‘Family-like Group’, I think. Basically, those who have come together regardless of blood or race and formed a family-like structure. Like I said, it doesn’t translate well.”

“Do you mean to say that, instead of hiring one burglar we are hiring an entire **_family_** of burglars?” Thorin growled.

“Not exactly. Look, let’s sit down and I’ll do what I can to explain the situation. Alright? Your lads look like they could do with a good feed and my lads have put this together for them.” Bilbo was not above using bribery.

“Very well.” Thorin sat reluctantly.

Fíli and Kíli stepped forward, now and straightened.

“Fíli.” Said Fíli.

“And Kíli.” Added Kíli.

“At your service.” The two spoke together. Oh, how Bilbo had missed hearing those words, had missed seeing that face. It was harder than he’d expected to have them in front of him after all this time.

“Welcome to Bag End, lads. Come and sit.” The younger dwarrow sat, one on each side of Thorin.

“Dwalin, son of Fundin, son of Farin. At your service.” Dwalin rumbled, bow deeply.

“Welcome Dwalin, pull up a patch of grass and something to eat.”

“Óin, son of Gróin, son of Farin. At your service.” The healer said.

“Welcome Óin, sit down, there’s plenty to go around.” Bilbo passed around a tray of small meat pies. “Gandalf? Are you joining us, or are you going inside to the lads?”

“I think, I’d best stay here, Bilbo. Your news is likely to shock and we wouldn’t want anyone to fall from Bag End’s roof, now would we?” The wizard, smirked.

“Oh, har har. Alright, if you’re staying, sit down, for heavens sake.” He turned to Thorin. “Tall folk. Ugh. Haven’t a brain in their heads, sometimes, I swear.” Bilbo could **_also_** have sworn that Thorin lips twitched, before the dwarf caught himself.

“Now? I was going to explain wasn’t I?” Bilbo scooped himself a pie and mug of hard cider before continuing. “Right. This is complicated and I’d appreciate it if you’d wait until I finish before you said anything.” He waited until Thorin eventually dipped his chin. “My life is not that of the average hobbit. Only a few weeks ago now, I was in Valinor. No need to scrunch your nose up like that, Thorin Oakenshield, it was the most boring place I’ve ever had the misfortune visit. My nephew and I thought the waves hitting the beach, the most excitement there was to be had and said as much. We were overheard by Lord Irmo, Master of Dreams, Lord Tulkas, Champion of Valinor and by Lord Manwë, the King of the Valar, himself. Lord Irmo asked of our discontent and when we told of our sorrows and regrets, the three of them decided that we would have the chance to right the wrongs that caused our pain. We were given the chance to join your company again, to reclaim Erebor from Smaug and **_this_** time, see it done right.” He pulled a pie apart and hastily ate a piece. “So, my nephew and I reminded the Valar that we hadn’t done, what had **_been_** done, alone, and they agreed to return, not just the two of us but the rest of our Nas, as well. That’s five hobbits. Myself, Frodo, his two cousins, Merry and Pippin and the valiant Samwise. But Irmo was especially generous and gave us Gifts. The ability to change our shape, is perhaps the most striking, each of us has a totem animal and together we all have a sixth shape. I’ll explain more on those later. We also have other Gifts, not nearly as dramatic, but certainly useful. Sam is a plant healer, Merry a land healer, Pippin has the ability to see the most unorthodox solutions to a problem, Frodo can talk his way into and out of trouble with an innocence that most people find charming and I can speak many languages. Until recently I wasn’t aware that to speak Khuzdul was forbidden to outsiders and while you may not approve, I was given this Gift for a reason.”

There was anger on Thorin’s face at hearing Bilbo could speak their secret language, but thinking it was a Gift of the Valar, he huffed in resignation.

“Being able to speak Khuzdul has come in very hand in the last couple of weeks. We, the entire Nas, had to go to Michel Delving two weeks ago, we had business at the Mathom-House. The night before we left there, we were approached by a dwarf. He was skinny, dirty, dressed in rags and said he had no memory.” All five dwarrow were leant forward in concentration, listening intently. “One cleaned up, he was a handsome fellow, golden beard and hair, bright blue eyes.”

Thorin frowned at hearing this, very few dwarrow had blue eyes, it was a trait prominent only in the Line of Durin.

“I knew him, I’d never met before, but his resemblance to other dwarrow I knew was uncanny. There was only one person he could be, but his brother and sister believed him dead. We brought him with us back to Bag End and this morning when Gandalf arrived to inform us of your whereabouts, I told him of the dwarf, they met and Gandalf agreed that he could only be Frerin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór.” Thorin’ eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Fíli and Kíli did much the same.

“Did ye say _**‘Frerin’?** ”_ Dwalin gasped.

“I did.”

“It cannot be.” Thorin whispered.

“It is.” Gandalf corrected.

“The moment you see him, you will not doubt. He has no memory of himself, not his name, not what he looked like, not where he came from, nothing. He remembers his brother’s voice, remembers brushing his sister’s hair, but he cannot see them, he said it’s like shutting your eyes and doing something, you remember the motions and the sounds, but there’s no visuals to remember.”

“If it is truly Frerin, you have done the Line of Durin a great service, Master Baggins.”

“Nonsense. He’s a fine dwarf, even if he can’t see that.” Bilbo dropped the light-hearted tone and became serious. “Thorin, he’s… damaged, you might say. Because of his lack of memory, he’s been unable to claim a Family Line, every dwarrow he approached turned their back on him, abandoned him, exiled him, drove him away, as did the few Men he had contact with. He stayed in the Shire, mostly because, if he was prepared to labour, hobbits would see that he was fed, clothed and sheltered, but even the hobbits of the shire were not the most welcoming, to someone who could not claim a Family Line. My Nas, we took him in, we clothed him, fed him, armed him and we ask nothing of him in return. He has become… important to us, a part of our Nas. He is the dwarf of Bag End… and he is also Frodo’s [Mudtu Bassul](Heart%20Bond).”

There was a gasp from all five dwarrow.

“Heart Bond? With a hobbit?” Thorin gasped.

“Yes. Neither of them are aware of it, they both reach for the other, but have no idea they are doing so.” Bilbo grinned. “It can be quite entertaining to watch, especially when Frodo is shifted into his totem animal, a hawk. He sits on Frerin’s shoulder and runs his beak though Frerin’s hair and **_neither_** of them realises it.” Bilbo chuckled.

“Can we meet him?” Fíli asked.

“We’ve heard Uncle talk of him, but he was dea-… gone… before we were born.” Kíli corrected himself.

“Well, of course, you can. Just a moment.” Bilbo rolled to his feet and took the three steps that were needed to reach the kitchen chimney, he pulled the rope that ran down the chimney and connected to the kitchen bell. Sweet, musical chimes could be heard from the depths of the smial.

“Do you know what happened to him? He was declared dead after a battle.” Thorin hesitated to give too many details, just in case.

“Azanulbizar. I don’t know the details, I don’t think he remembers much, but when I helped him clean up, he was in no condition to deal with the matted mass that his hair had become, with his permission, I helped him wash his hair and saw what must have been a very severe injury. He has a scar, nearly an inch across, that runs from the crown of his head down to the base of his skull.”

“Oh, Mahal.” Thorin breathed.

Bilbo heard the door of the smial squeak open, so he was ready when the hobbits and Frerin reached the top of the smial. Frerin had his eyes squeezed shut, fear written in every line of his trembling body and he had a tight grip on Frodo’s hand.

When Thorin caught sight of Frerin, he froze, eyes wide and shocked, but the reaction that Bilbo watched the closest, was that of Kíli. He saw Frerin, looked over at Fíli and then to Frerin, to Fíli, to Frerin, back and forth, at least a dozen times, before he began to giggle almost silently.

Dwalin was no better, he too, looked from Frerin to Fíli and back almost constantly. Óin’s reaction was harder to pin down, yes, he was shocked, but he was also assessing the dwarf’s physical condition as well.

“Frerin? Nadad? [E ashfâkh kulhu e asukh](I%20doubt%20what%20I%20see). Frerin?” Thorin gasped out.

When Frerin heard Thorin’s voice, his head jerked and his eyes opened, he looked so startled. He began to shake and one hand, the one not holding Frodo’s, flew to his head, he groaned and swayed, Thorin leapt forward and grabbed him before he hit the ground, Thorin and Frodo carefully lowered him to the ground, as Óin got to his feet and stumbled over to the prone dwarf.

“What happened?” Frodo asked, almost frantic.

“Looks like he had a [zailu u’kush](mind%20shock). Roll him onto his side, Thorin. You, lad, what’s your name?”

“Frodo. What’s a zayloo oo koosh?”

“Right, Frodo, cushion his neck, but don’t touch his head. Kíli! Bring me bag here. Fíli, get a mug of hot water. Now, lads, **_now_**.”

“Uncle Bilbo?” Frodo was getting close to panicking.

“It’s alright, Frodo. A [zailu u’kush](mind%20shock) is a mind shock, like the shock Pippin gets when he eats ice-cream too fast, but it’s whole the mind affected, not just the forehead. I’d say that Óin’s making up a tea-like infusion of peppermint, arnica or valerian, maybe? I doubt he’ll need anything stronger. The warmth should help ease the discomfort fairly quickly.” Bilbo made sure to sound calm and knowledgeable.

“Aye, Master Baggins, tha’s right. A warm drink’ll take the worst of the pain away and the arnica and peppermint ‘ll help with the rest. He’ll be right as rain in a bit.” The Dwarroven healer agreed.

“See. Now, lad, get yourself together, he’ll need tending and we all know that’ll fall to you.” Bilbo advised Frodo.

“Master Baggins? A word, if you please.” Thorin said standing upright.

The two moved a little away from the others.

“Yes, Thorin?”

“You speak as if you know me, but I know that to be false.” Thorin frowned.

“Ah... Thorin, I lived a long life, for a hobbit that is, I and my lads, have been sent back, by the Valar to re-join you in reclaiming Erebor. We were sent back from various different places, but for all of us that place was eighty years from now. In my life the thing that stands tallest, is my joining your Company, standing with you as we faced Orcs, goblins and Smaug. I **_do_** know you, Thorin, I’d like to say I know you quite well, well enough that you called me ‘[imrikh-nadad](shield-brother)’. I **_know_** that you don’t like mornings, neither does Fíli, I **_know_** that you prefer lamb to fish, but will fight viciously for a chicken leg, I **_know_** that you like your coffee dark and strong, but prefer your tea light and sweet. I **_know_** that you eat you bread with jam, but no butter, I **_know_** that your favourite treats are dried figs, but you dislike fresh figs. I **_know_** that you hold your sword right over left, but when you swing one-handed you hold it in your right hand, even though you are left-handed. Shall I continue?”

Thorin mouth opened and closed for a bit, before he sighed.

“No, Master Baggins. I’d rather you, not. Everything you said it true, all of it. I see what you mean, now, about Frerin and … did you say… your nephew? He appears much the same age as you?”

“Technically he’s my cousin, but whenever he’s been with me, there’s always been a group of younger hobbits around and they always called me ‘Uncle Bilbo’, so it rubbed of on him. Plus Frodo’s got an air about him, an air of youth and innocence, you’ve seen it, everyone does. But yes, our ages are much the same, now. Thanks to the Valar.”

“I though it so. Your inference of their attachment is correct, it is clear, but, as you say, they are oblivious to it. Do you plan to tell them? **_Should_** we tell them?”

“My heart says, ‘ ** _yes’_** , but logically, I know that we cannot. For their Bond to be strong, for them to **_never_** doubt it, they must see it for themselves.”

“You speak as one who knows from past experience, Master Baggins?”

“Thorin, enough with the Master Baggins, rubbish, my name is Bilbo. My Nas and I **_are_** going with you, it is why we were sent here, after all. And yes, Thorin, I know of Heart Bonds from personal experience. I’ll not say his name, but I can see the question in your eyes, so yes, he is one of your Company, but he must see our Bond for himself. I remember the day he saw our Bond, he came to you and asked your approval, you listened and when he finished, you gave your consent.”

“Bilbo, then… Know that there are only two, with me, that would seek my approval and consent.” Thorin growled.

“Yes, I am aware.”

“So, you will not just be a member of my Company, you will also be family?”

“That is my hope, but only if he sees the Bond for what it is.”

“Agreed. Shall we return to the others? Earlier you spoke of another Gift from the Valar. The ability to change forms, you said?”

“Pretty much. We each have a totem form and then the five of us can all shift into a sixth form.”

Fíli and Kíli suddenly at Thorin’s shoulders.

“Will you show us?” They asked together.

“Yes, we will. We need you to see all our shifted forms, not just our totem shifts but our common shift. When the rest of the Company get here, we’ll feed them and then we’ll take you to where we keep our ponies, we do all our shifting practice there.”

“Do you… shift?... is that the right word? Do you shift around the ponies?”

“Oh, yes, we need them to be reasonably comfortable with our shifted forms, there’s no telling when we may need to shift, nor any way of predicting why.”

“Bilbo?” Merry called. “The other dwarrow are coming up the Row.”

“Ah, good. Let’s get this over with. Thorin, would you care to introduce your Company and I’ll do the Nas? Sound fair?”

“Indeed.” Thorin went to stand under the oak tree, beckoning his nephews to his side, he waited until all the dwarrow had reached the flattened area strewn with baskets of food. “Starting at the beginning. I am Thorin Oakenshield, leader of this Company. These are my sister-sons, Fíli and Kíli.” As Thorin introduced each dwarf and told their name and Family Connections, the members of the Company joined him under the tree. “Dwalin, son of Fundin, Captain of my Guard, his brother, Balin, my chief advisor. Óin, you now know, he’s our healer, his brother, Gloín, is my Master of the Coin. Next are the brothers Ri, Dori, Nori and Ori, Ori is our scribe, Nori is in charge of information and Dori is coordinator for this quest. Lastly we have Bombur, our cook, Bofur is procurer, and Bifur… well, I’m not quite sure why Bifur’s along, but we’re glad to have him anyway, how these three are related to each other, I haven’t figured out yet. Sufficient?”

“Certainly, thank you, Thorin. Gentle-dwarrow, welcome to Bag End. I am Bilbo Baggins, son of Bungo, currently Master of Bag End. Now most of you thought you were coming here to meet Nas of Bag End, well… Like **_you lot_** are the ** _Company_** of Thorin Oakenshield, **_we_** are the **_Nas_** of Bag End. Frodo Baggins,… wave your hand, Frodo, there’s a lad. Thank you. Meriadoc Brandybuck,… Merry, give a wave, please. Thanks, lad. Peregrin Took,… Pippin? Thank you. And Samwise Gamgee,… Sam? Good lad. There’s one more. Óin, is he ready to stand, yet?”

“[Abrâgul Sharbragán](pestering%20hobbit). Of course, I’m right to stand.” Came a dwarf’s voice from the midst of the hobbits.

“Well, on your feet then you, [ifhên khazd](complaining%20dwarf).” Bilbo grumped, causing Thorin to laugh.

This was met by gasps of shock, the shock of Bilbo speaking Khuzdul, turned to amazement, when Thorin cross to stand beside his brother. Bilbo had a moment of double vision, Thorin and Frerin, were the older versions of Fíli and Kíli, the similarities so strong that none could ever doubt the unknown dwarf was a Durin.

“Dwarrow of Erebor, this is my brother, Frerin, Prince of the Line of Durin. Fíli, Kíli come meet you [Irak'Adad](Uncle).”

 

 

  

Nas of Bag End = Family of Bag End

Mudtu Bassul = Heart Bond

E ashfâkh kulhu e asukh = I doubt what I see

zailu u’kush = mind shock

imrikh-nadad = shield-brother

Abrâgul Sharbragán = pestering hobbit

ifhên khazd = complaining dwarf

Irak-Adad = uncle


	9. Wargs in the Shire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarrow meet the hobbits' other forms  
> Riding a Warg is a rush.  
> Thorin and Bilbo have a chat  
> Thorin is 'Not Happy'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additions and edits - 21-Aug

“Has everyone had enough to eat? Yes? Good. Can we go shift now? Please, Bilbo?” Pippin begged. He wanted to see the dwarrow’s reactions to their other forms.

“Well, Thorin, ready for another shock?” Frerin asked with huge grin. Since his mind shock had passed, he’d told Óin and Bilbo that some of his memories were already beginning to come back, certainly not all of them, not this fast, but bits and pieces, here and there. He remembered Thorin and wrestling together, playing with a young Dwalin and having lessons alongside a young Balin. He remembered Óin saying he wanted to be a healer and holding a baby Gloín. The others, he didn’t remember at all and was relived when Thorin told him, that Thorin had only met them after Azanulbizar, so Frerin wouldn’t have known them.

Frerin was brighter, now, knowing he had a family that wanted him, but Bilbo had seen the sometimes rigid posture and saw how the dwarf still clung to Frodo’s presence. How long this would go on for was anyone’s guess, but Bilbo and Thorin had quietly discussed the matter and felt that once Frerin got more familiar with these particular dwarrow, he would relax and regain more of his natural humour.

“Is it that much of a shock, nadad?” Thorin asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Frerin laughed.

“Yep. It was for me. I thought I’d gone mad. I think the bigger shifts are easier to adjust to, just watch the eyes, is all I can say.”

“The eyes?” Fíli asked.

“No matter what shape they’re in, their eyes stay the same. Just focus on that.”

“Should we be worried?” Fretted Dori.

“Oh, no. They won’t harm you, they just look scary. That’s all.” Frerin assured him

“Bilbo?” Thorin called.

“Yes, Thorin?” the hobbit answered.

“Can we go and do this, now, before someone decides to panic over this?”

“You included, huh? Never mind. Of course, we can. Gather up the baskets, all the scraps can go in one and the mugs in another. We’ll just pop them in the kitchen to deal with later, while we grab our gear.” Bilbo started bustling about, piling baskets and passing another around for the leftovers.

They all tromped back down the steps to Bag End’s front door, the hobbits dashed inside and the dwarrow followed, curious about hobbit holes. Those carrying baskets were directed to the kitchen and the rest told ‘don’t break anything, but feel free to stickybeak’, Fíli, Kíli, Ori and Nori doing exactly that. The hobbits quickly changed into sparring clothes and picked up the packs which held their armour, adding their swords and bows as they headed out the back door of the smial. Hobbits lead the dwarrow out the back door, down a path that hugged the side of the hill and around to another set of steps, these wound down to a small valley that opened out to the north. A smial-shed dug into the hill housed the pony gear and when the hobbits appeared, ponies came running, crowding around and nudging for treats and food.

“Git out of it, you lot. You know you’re not getting fed. Now... Git!” Sam pushed and shooed, finally the ponies moved away.

“[Khagâr’l beasts](nosey%20beasts).” Frerin grumbled as he pushed through the ponies with an armful of weapons, he lead the dwarrow to the far end of the valley where a hedge of bushes left a screened of area.

“Frerin? That’s a dwarroven bow, where did you get it?” Thorin asked, puzzled.

“Bilbo did a trade with the Mathom-House in Michel Delving, he translated some medical texts for them, from elven, and they gave the Nas all the Dwarroven items in the building. Weapons, bows, blades, clothes and even some beads, we’ll show you this evening. They wanted me armed, Thorin, they wanted me to be able to defend myself, they gave me the bow and a selection of daggers. I didn’t feel like a dwarf, you know,… I tried, but I had no skill with a sword, no skill as a smith. Until I stood with a pair of long-daggers, I thought myself a failure as a dwarf, but with the daggers in my hands, I knew how to fight, how to attack, how to defend. I wasn’t the useless dwarf, I thought I was. These hobbits have given me so much, Thorin and they will take nothing more than my company, in return.”

“Hobbits are like that.” Gandalf commented.

“Well, we’re ready.” Pippin suddenly appeared beside the wizard.

“Good, good. As per usual, let’s start with the smaller forms and work our way up.” Bilbo directed joining them.

“Me first.” Cried pippin, he raced across to a rock wall and scrambled to the top. Here he stopped and took a few deep breaths. Slowly the air around him began to shimmer and twist, the hobbit’s body seeming to melt and reshape, when the air settled, a large weasel-like animal sat on the wall. It shook itself and with a chitter it launched itself from the wall and bounced across to Merry, it danced around his feet before rapidly climbing to his shoulder.

The dwarrow looked on in wonder, Fíli and Kíli edging closer.

“Sam, you’re next.” Frodo said.

“Yes, Mister Frodo.” Again there was a shimmer and twist and a hobbit melted, Sam shook his feathers and clacked his beak, he flew on silent wings to a pony’s rump and began to preen his wings.

“Frodo, your turn.” Frerin urged, he held out an arm and Frodo put a hand on it. The air about him twisted and Frodo’s wings beat until he was able to rest on Frerin’s wrist. Quickly he fluttered until he was on the dwarf’s shoulder, within seconds his beak was carding through the dwarf’s hair, neither of them seeming to take much notice.

“My turn.” Said Merry. He leant forward, still with a shifter Pippin on his shoulder and with another air shimmer a large white wolf stood there, it sat and using a back leg, it scratched at an ear, standing it walked over to the wall, letting Pippin jump to the rocks.

“Right. Pippin is a pine marten, a relative of the weasel, but as you can see, much larger. Sam is a Tawny Owl, Frodo is a Black Kestrel and Merry is, as you can see, a White Wolf.” With that Bilbo also leant forward and shimmered, the cat’s short ruff ending at it’s jaw, made it look like it had fluffy sideburns. The markings around it’s eyes and mouth were bright white and sharply contrasted to the dark sandy-gold fur of it’s face.

“And Bilbo is a Golden Lynx. None of them are animals common to this area, so this is the only place they are prepared to shift, while here in Hobbiton.”

“And when we leave?” Fíli asked.

“Once we leave, they’ll only need to shift for a few minutes each morning, more as a reminder to the ponies that these are safe animals, sometimes, they’ll mount a pony and shift there, just as another reminder.”

“Do we need to do anything? To help them, I mean?” Kíli itching to get his fingers on some fur or feathers, just to see if they felt the same a natural animal.

“No, nothing. Now? Are you ready? I suggest you back up a bit. Their other shift is quite a bit bigger, but… not dangerous to us.” The dwarrow all scurried back to the brush, with Dori and Nori dragging Ori to the gap in the hedge.

“Pippin is the smallest, so he’ll go first. Now, remember what I said about watching their eyes? Pip has green eyes, remember that. Pip? When you’re ready.” Frerin said.

The dwarrow watched the pine marten, that was Pippin, jump down off the wall and as they watched the hobbit's shape changed again, it took longer this time, obviously because of the size difference. When the, now familiar, shimmer settled, the dwarrow all took a step back, a massive black warg stood where only seconds ago a pine marten had crouched.

“ _ **Smallest?!**_ ” Dwalin choked out. “That’s the biggest warg I’ve ever seen.” The warg could be seen to literally puff it’s chest out at that.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too,… until I saw the others in their warg-shifts. Pippin is a little under 6” tall at the shoulder and from speaking with Gandalf, Bilbo and Frodo found out that the average warg stands about 5” at the shoulder.”

“Eastern wargs are about that, yes, the northern wargs have longer legs, but a more compact body, so are a few inches taller.” Gandalf put in.

“If he’s the smallest, how big is the biggest?” Asked Fíli.

“Who is the biggest?” Asked Kíli, at the same time.

“Ah, well. Pippin the smallest at 5”10’, Sam is the next at 6”4’, Merry is 7”2’, Frodo is the second largest at 7”6’ and Bilbo is the biggest, he stands at 7”10’ at the shoulder, close to twice his hobbit height.” As Frerin spoke, each hobbit shifted into their warg form. “And I’m sure some of you are thinking it... yes, I’ve ridden all of them. No, it’s not the most comfortable ride.” Frodo and Bilbo snorted at the comment. “Well, it’s not, your front legs are too long for that, but is a rush. Gets the heart pumping, that’s for sure.” He grinned.

“Can we try?” Ori had snuck forward, while Dori and Nori were distracted by the hobbits’ new shapes.

“Please?” Fíli and Kíli begged, their eyes big and pleading.

Bilbo turned to Frodo and the others and a growly, gurgling noise issued from his throat, a clearly questioning sound. Each of the warg-shaped hobbits responded in a similar noise, the conversation taking only a few seconds before first Bilbo, then Merry and Pippin, followed by Sam and lastly Frodo, sank to their knees.

“I’d say that’s a ‘yes’, then. Frerin would you show us how it’s done, please? We’d not like to cause pain to our new friends.” Also Thorin knew, if the Heart Bond between his brother and Frodo were a true Bond, then neither would be pleased with the other having that type of close contact with another person, regardless of Frodo’s current form.

“Sure.” He crossed to Frodo’s side and gently stroked a soft ear. “You mount up the same way you would a pony, admittedly, in this form, kneeling like this, they’re not quite as tall as a pony. Without a saddle, and we don’t have any, you can put your foot here, on the back of the elbow. It’s easiest this way.”

“Wait… Can you do that again, please?” Kíli asked, coming to stand just a foot or two from Frodo’s shoulder.

“Who else is game to have a go? Come on, over here and watch.” Frerin called. He ended up with Fíli, Kíli, Ori, Nori, Thorin, Dwalin, Bifur and Bofur gathered around Frodo. “Alright. This is where you put your feet and hands, here, here and finally, here.” As he spoke, Frerin also moved, he lifted a booted foot and placed it flat on the jutted angle of Frodo’s elbow, his hands grasped at the thick shaggy mane, he bounced up until he stood solely on the foot on Frodo’s elbow. He moved his hands and swung his leg up and over the hobbit-warg’s back, finally he moved his hands and took a grip on the mane at the base of the neck.

“Ookaayy…” said Bofur, stepping over to face the other warg-shaped hobbits. “Which one of you is going to let me have a go at this?” Pippin yipped and wriggled on the spot. “Right, then. Speak up, if I pull more than I should.” Pippin yipped an agreeing sound, so Bofur did his best to copy the moves that Frerin had made, his heart racing in his chest. He lifted his foot and bang, bang, bang, he was on the back of a warg!

Kíli sidled up to Bilbo.

“Can I? Please?” He whispered, pleadingly.

Bilbo nodded and in just a few seconds Kíli, too sat on a warg.

Over the next half hour, all the dwarrow, but Dori and Óin, braved riding a warg-hobbit, Frerin staying on Frodo’s back and giving pointers as needed.

Finally Bilbo twitched a shoulder and Bifur slid to the ground, giving his shoulder a grateful pat and speaking in Khuzdul as the hobbit shifted back into a hobbit.

“I’m sorry, Bifur, I missed that. What did you say?” Bilbo asked when he stood upright on two legs, again.

“[E makaragmâ. Khamnêl, Bilbo](I%20am%20honoured.%20Thank%20you,%20Bilbo).”

“Oh, well, you’re welcome, Bifur.”

“Yes, thank you, Bilbo. That was amazing.” Kíli gushed.

There were suddenly a spate of appreciation from the dwarrow directed at the hobbits.

“Alright, that’s enough, you lot. Thorin, I’d like Nori, Fíli, Kíli and you to give us a hand. The rest of you, I’d like you to head back to the green dragon.” He was met be a round of protests. “Whoa, whoa. Hang on. Let me finish, please... Head back to the Green Dragon and pack your things up, bring them to Bag End and then come back down here. Merry, would you go with them, please? Tell Fenrick, they’ll be staying with us and tell him to take the cost out of the monthly’s due, would you? Oh, good lad.” Merry stepped up and bustled the dwarrow back up the valley to Bag End.

“Right, what do you need us for?” Nori asked.

“Nori, can you give us a hand with knife throwing? Frodo and Sam are first up for that.”

“Sure. Lead the way.” He bowed slightly and gestured to the hobbits to show him their practise area. Frerin absently followed them.

“Kíli, can you give Pippin a hand with his archery? Thank you.” Pippin and Kíli wandered their way to the other side of the clearing, but when Fíli moved to join them, Bilbo held out a hand. “Fíli, please, wait here?”

“Frerin’s a fine archer why haven’t you asked-… Oh, right, yes, I forgot. Sorry.” Thorin started to ask, until Bilbo quirked an eyebrow and looked at where Frerin was.

“What can we help **_you_** with?” Fíli asked cheekily.

“Swords, Fíli,… in particular, two at once, but also single swords and that’s where you come in, Thorin. Until we know which we are best suited to, I want us to train with both options. Merry has already discovered that he can’t coordinate two blades at once and Sam knows he can, he just needs a better challenge than we can give him. Frerin’s been great about helping, but his long-daggers are no help, as the styles are so different and he’s next to helpless with a sword. Bluntly, gentlemen we need experts to spar with, but… our style is very different to those of men or elves or dwarrow. It’s unlikely that we can adjust to your techniques, so what we need more than anything is sparring practice, practice with someone better than we are, someone that can push us.”

“That, we can do.” Fíli grinned.

 

That evening there was a boisterous party in Bag End, all the business dealing were completed and they were just enjoying the company of new friends. Bilbo, Frodo, Thorin and Balin had gone over the contract and made amendments, where necessary.

“Thorin? Can I have a word? Privately?” Bilbo asked, some time later.

“Of course, Bilbo. What about?”

Bilbo ushered Thorin out of the smoking room and through the halls to his study. He gestured to a seat near the desk and took another seat for himself.

“The Mathom-House gave us a fair amount stuff in trade for a little bit of translating.”

“So you said. And is that what this is about? You traded your time, the items are yours.”

“That’s partially what I wanted to talk to you about. Some of these things are family heirlooms and I want to return them to the families.”

“That’s up to you, Bilbo. If you want to do this, I will not stop you.”

Bilbo opened a draw and pulled out a bag, passing it to Thorin before he sat down again.

“What is this?”

“That’s a selection of Beads and clasps, that I want to return. Most of them are Durin Beads. I read the runes on them. Daín the first, Thorin the first, Óin the first, Nain, Farin and a number of Durin’s, third, fourth and sixth. There are others, but I didn’t recognise the names. Plus some have designs or emblems instead of runes. I recognised none of these. I’d like you to look and see if you know them, if there’s any relatives, I’d like them returned.”

“ ** _Mahal_** … Yes, yes, of course.”

“Plus, there’s a number of weapons. Now, some of them have names on them and there are a few of those, that I would like to keep, to give out as special gifts. One for my Heart Bond, one for his brother. One for Frerin and another for you, the same for most of the company. Others are just anonymous, not named for anyone.”

“Bilbo, they are yours. If you want to keep them or give them away, it’s up to you.” Thorin assured him. “Ah…? Bilbo…? There’s no one else here… will you tell me… your Heart Bond? Will you tell me which of the lads, it is?”

“I’m hesitant, Thorin. I want to… but… I’m scared that saying it, will change it.” Bilbo whispered.

“Then don’t say anything. Just, know that the two of them are close, getting between them will lead to disaster.”

“No, Thorin. The relationship he has with his brother is a huge part of our Bond, it’s what makes him who he is.” Bilbo assured the uncle of his Bonded.

“The fact that Fíli is currently, my Heir, will have much effect on you.” Thorin commented.

“Subtle, Thorin, very subtle.”

“No, not really. Fíli being my First Heir will effect Kíli, so what I’m asking is…? Are you prepared to take that into account? Knowing that Fíli or Kíli, unless I marry, which is something that can never be ruled out... unless I marry, it will fall to Fíli or Kíli to produce heirs. Fíli is my First Heir, so if he is your Bonded, then you will be his Prince Consort, whereas if Kíli, is your Bonded, he will always be second to his brother, he must always stand in support of his brother and so must you.”

“Ah, now, I understand. Well, in that case…” Bilbo didn’t continue, but he did get to his feet, he crossed the room and opened a cupboard and pulled out a pair of weapons and showed them to Thorin.

“These are for him. Now, I should warn you. I know that you’re not friendly with elves, but Elrond of Rivendell owes my family a significant debt. And I intend to claim that debt. I would have him send, either an elf or a ranger, with a number of items for me, to bring them to Erebor, for after the quest is completed. I also want access to the forges in Rivendell. I would follow Dwarroven tradition and make my Heart Bond's Courting Beads, myself. I’ve already chosen a number of items as Courting Gifts, **_if_** he recognises the Bond.” He pulled out a pair of leather gauntlets, “I made these in the last few weeks and I’m working on a design for a set of hair clasps. Would you like to see them and the designs for the clasps and Beads?”

“You don’t mind?” Thorin was startled that the hobbit was prepared to show his Gifts for his Heart Bond.

“Thorin, I wouldn’t have offered if I minded, besides, other than his brother you are the one who knows him the best.” Bilbo huffed, handing Thorin the sketches he’d done, along with the gauntlets. The dwarf fingered the leather and traced a finger along the embossing, he turned them over and looked at how the seams sat flat. He handed them back and moved his attention to the designs, his eyes tracked the lines of the engraving and his lips moved as he read the runes spaced among the other shapes. His eyes glistened as he handed them back to the hobbit.

“Bilbo, these are… these are incredible. The gloves are very fine, the embossing is very detailed, your sewing is refined and precise. The designs are stunning, do you…? Do you have the skill to make them?”

“Isn’t it strange to ask a hobbit if they have the skill to use a forge?” Bilbo smirked. “But, to answer your question, yes, I can make them look like that. I may not have the skills of a dwarf, but there’s no hobbit smith that can compare.”

“These designs show a strong Bond, **_when_** he sees the Bond for himself, and I am certain he will, he will be honoured to display them.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “My nephews are my Heirs and while I would have them choose their life partners with only their hearts, I must think of their positions as well. There will be many who will doubt that a hobbit should exchange pledges with a prince of Durin’s Line, what would you have me say to those dwarrow?”

“Thorin, I am The Baggins of Bag End, I am the Head of the Baggins family. As The Baggins, I am the landowner for a great many properties, including the Green Dragon… To clarify… I own the land and building, but not the business.” Knowing what Thorin really wanted to know was his standing, his position in the Shire, Bilbo finally told him. “My mother was Belladonna Took, oldest of the Old Took’s three remarkable daughters, the Old Took being the Thain of the Shire for 72 years, the longest ruling Thain ever. My cousin Fortimbras holds the office at present, he is not happy that I have agreed to travel, but thinks that I plan to go only as far as Rivendell, little does he realise that I do not plan to return to Hobbiton.”

“The Thain is the King of the Shire, is he not?” Thorin asked, his eyes wide in surprise.

“No, not quite. The Shire is still part of the Kingdom of Arnor, so the position of the Thain is much the same as that of the Steward of Gondor, they rule in the absence of the King.”

“And the others?” Were they, too, of such high ranks?

“Frodo, Merry and Pippin are also direct descendants of the Old Took. Sam is not, his family have, in the past, been the caretakers of Bag End and tended the lands around this smial.”

“So, in other words, we are taking four princes of the Shire and their most loyal of servants, off on our very dangerous quest and were expecting them to face a dragon, after having trudged nearly a thousand leagues? Is that what you’re saying?” **_Oh, Mahal. Please say no!_** His mind begged.

Bilbo grinned.

“Pretty much.”

“[Kakhfu!](Shit!)”

 

 

 

Khagâr’l beasts = nosey beasts

E makaragmâ. Khamnêl, Bilbo. = I am honoured. Thank you, Bilbo.

Kakhfu = shit (faecal matter)


	10. Disclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight Princes  
> An old gift  
> Packing  
> A conversation overheard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additions and edits - 21-Aug

_“So, in other words, we are taking four princes of the Shire and their most loyal of servants, off on our very dangerous quest and were expecting them to face a dragon, after having trudged nearly a thousand leagues? Is that what you’re saying?” **Oh, Mahal. Please say no!** His mind begged._

_Bilbo grinned._

_“Pretty much.”_

_“[Kakhfu!](Shit!)”_

 

Thorin sat back in his seat looking at the hobbit. Four [idmém](bloody) hobbit princes. On top of the, including himself, four dwarf-princes. Oh, Mahal, help him. Eight princes. He was carting eight princes on this madcap quest to Erebor. What in Mordor was he supposed to do now? His mind went round and round in circles, bouncing from one thought to another. His brother was alive and he was Heart Bonded with a hobbit prince. Another hobbit prince was Bonded with one of his nephews, Dís was going to have a apoplexy. The hobbits were princes and they could change in wargs. He rode a warg-shaped hobbit. In his hand was a bead that belonged to Durin the fourth.

“Thorin? Thorin? You alright?” Bilbo was standing in front of him, a hand on his shoulder.

“Wha-? Sorry, I was…? I was… I don’t know what I was? Thinking? Doing? My head’s full of thoughts and I can’t focus on any of them.”

“Well, that’s going to be annoying. Any of them, standing out?”

“I’m carting eight princes, including myself, on a madcap quest to fight a dragon. Eight. What in Mordor am I thinking?” Thorin was nearly frantic.

Crack!

“What the-?” What the blazes had just happened, it felt like the hobbit had slapped him!

“If you think, for one second, that you’re doing this without us, you are in for one heck of a shock, Thorin bloody Oakenshield! The Valar didn’t go to the effort of sending the five of us back for nothing, mister. You step up and do what you know you have to do. If you _**don’t**_ , if you **_won’t_** , you can bet your hairy ass that I _**will**_. I didn’t live eighty years without my Heart Bond, just so you could hide your bloody great head in the sand. Mahal save me from [fenet, ‘abanu-bund’l, idmém ](thick,%20stone-headed,%20bloody%20dwarrow)[khazâd!](thick,%20stone-headed,%20bloody%20dwarrow) ** _”_** The hobbit snarled, a hint of his warg voice showing.

“Sorry, but… I just… it’s a big thing. Eight princes, Bilbo, eight.”

“Thorin, that’s not how we think, hobbits, I mean. We don’t recognise that the Thains are royalty, they are the Thains, their job is to rule only until the King returns.”

“Bilbo, there are no kings of Arnor, anymore.” Thorin attempted to point out.

“Not yet, there’s not, but there will be.”

“What? What?! What are you talking about?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. Any chance of you forgetting that?”

“No! Explain… please.” Thorin was so confused.

“There’s a lad, a child, that will one day claim the thrones of both Arnor _**and**_ Gondor. His father was the last chieftain of the Dunedain, at least until his death, eight years ago. The boy was just a babe, when his mother sought to have him fostered.”

“A king… of Arnor and Gondor? Truly?”

“Thorin, can we focus on our quest? Please?” Bilbo begged, berating himself for the slip up.

“I…”

“Thorin! Focus... On... Erebor!” Yavanna help him, he wanted to slap the dwarf again.

“Erebor. Right. Yes. Erebor. Alright…[Magandul](Damn%20it), Bilbo, you can’t say something like that and just expect me to rearrange my thinking that fast.”

“Thorin.” Bilbo sighed in exasperation. “You’re a warrior and a king, you need to think fast, stop being a dunder-head.”

“Did he just call Uncle a dunder-head, Fíli?” Kíli stuck his head around the doorframe.

“I think he did, Kíli.” Fíli’s head appeared above Kíli’s.

“Kíli. Fíli.” Bilbo sighed in pleasure, seeing his dwarf with his brother was a joy. Although they could be unholy terrors, they would also be the first to help another. Fíli was a skilled swordsman with his duel falchions and Kíli was just as lethal with either his bow or his sword. “What can we do for you?”

“Did you really call uncle a dunder-head?” Kíli asked

“I did.”

“Why? What’d he say?”

“He wasn’t focusing on our quest.” Bilbo saw a quick frown grace the face of his Bonded for a bare second, before he continued. “I told him, he’s a warrior and a king, he needs to think fast, not be a dunder-head.”

Both princes began to giggle.

“Oh, knock it off. He deserved it. He was having a panic about carting us all to Erebor. The great idiot.”

“What? Why?” Kíli looked worried, Uncle wasn’t all that keen on bringing him on this quest, but Amad was adamant he took both his Heirs, they needed to see their heritage. Hopefully Uncle wasn’t going to change his mind.

“Bloody Bilbo just told me that, including myself, I’m carting eight princes to Erebor. Eight. [Magandul](Damn%20it), eight!” Thorin groaned.

“Eight?” Kíli asked.

“You’re a prince, Bilbo?” Fíli asked.

“Enough!” Bilbo waited til the lads fell silent. “I told Thorin that hobbits don’t consider the Thain’s family royalty, but the [lulkh](idiot) won’t listen. Merry, Pippin, Frodo and I may be descendants of the Old Took, the longest ruling Thain in our history, but… We… Are… Not… Princes! **_Got it?!”_**

Fíli and Kíli looked at him wild-eyed, hesitant to correct him.

“But…” Thorin started.

“No. Buts… None. At. All.” Bilbo bit out, a grim look on his face.

“Yes, Bilbo.” The brothers agreed, Kíli waving at his uncle to shut up. Thorin's jaw shut with a snap.

Bilbo smiled, bright and sunny, he’d got his point across.

“Good. Now, are we still planning on leaving on Sunday or should we head out tomorrow? It’s more than eighty miles from here to Bree.”

Thorin shook himself mentally, there was a lot in front of them, he could think about hobbit princes and Heart Bonds, later.

“Are you ready? I mean, your general things, I know that as far as weapons go, you’re fine. But the rest? Clothes, supplies, equipment? That sort of thing.”

“Yes. Ah… one thing. Most of the hobbits, here in the Shire think that Frodo has come to me to recover from a shoulder injury and that, as it’s not healing properly, I am travelling with him to Rivendell to see Elrond about it. So, whenever we leave the smial to be around hobbits, Frodo will have his left arm in a sling. We’ll bundle up our armour and weapons, in our bedrolls, until we pass Bree, no hobbits carry weapons, that’s why the hobbits think we are travelling with you, for protection. They know that Frerin is your brother and think that you sent him here to act as your agent. I’d like to see that continue, please.” Bilbo explained. “If we can keep other hobbits in the dark until we get past Bree I would much appreciate it. The Nas aren’t your average hobbits, Thorin, we’ve lived through quests before, but to most hobbits that’s a bad thing. Quests and Adventures are nasty things, make you late for dinner, they do.”

Fíli and Kíli giggled at that.

“What do they think of weapons?” Thorin asked.

“Hobbits in general don’t use weapons, there are a few Bounders that are archers and I think the Shirrifs have daggers, but that would be it. The Nas, with our swords, bows and daggers would be considered very odd and likely, quite unrespectable. But, yes, I think we are ready. Our sparring clothes from earlier today are washed and drying, we’ll wear them when we leave. We’ve each a pack that is part pack, part scabbard and part quiver.” Kíli’s eyes lit with curiosity at that comment.

“Yes, Kíli, I’ll show you later. Our bedrolls are ready, too. We’ve been over the common supplies a few times and I think they’re good, but you’re welcome to check them out. This way.” Bilbo got to his feet and lead the three dwarrow out of the study and into the west hallway. “Down that hall there,” he pointed, “are the bathrooms, the tubs are big enough for a Man and there should be plenty of hot water for you lot. But this is the storage room and we’ve been keeping our travel gear in here.”

Spread out on benches were the hobbits’ things, one pile each plus a sixth for Frerin and a selection of things in another pile for communal items. Thorin studied one pile, assessing the contents. He was surprised to note that clothes were rolled and not folded, there were many more changes than he thought would fit normally fit in the odd-shaped packs, that lay on the low bench in front of the bench. In each pile there were clothes, an unrolled leather wash kit and an odd flattened cylinder.

“Bilbo, what’s this?” Thorin pointed to the cylinder.

“That is a traveller's kit, it unfolds like this.” Bilbo unclipped it and opened the container, the container itself was a frypan and it held a plate, a small pot, a mug, a folded knife and spoon in the top of the pot and the plate was used as the lid.

“That’s a handy little thing, especially for those who do a lot of travelling.” Kíli commented.

“Indeed it is. When we have access to a forge, I think we should try and make some. We’ll still have Bombur's cauldron, but this would give each dwarf, or hobbit, the means to cook for themselves if separated from the Company or if something happens to our Company supplies.” Thorin responded, before frowning in thought. “Bilbo you said, earlier, that Elrond of Rivendell owes your family a debt?”

“I did.”

“Do you think he could be persuaded to allow us to use his forges?”

“The smiths of Rivendell are Telovar and his sister Teldariel, and I think that if we were to ask **_them_** for permission, they would be keen to watch a true Dwarroven Master-Smith at work, Elrond approving or not.”

“Hmm… Would you be prepared to negotiate that for us?” Thorin asking this, surprised both Fíli and Kíli, obviously they had never seen Thorin make a request like this before.

Bilbo saw not only surprise on his Bonded’s face but also discontent, it was only a second or so, but it was there. He wondered briefly if his dwarf was beginning to feel their Bond, he really hoped so. Before he had a chance to focus on that, Frodo and Frerin came looking for them.

“Bilbo? Where are we putting the dwarrow for the night? I thought, maybe in the west wing? There’s a whole slew of rooms there that we don’t use.”

“That’s a good idea, Frodo. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Hmmm… Gandalf should have the plum room, it’s the only one with furniture suitable for Big Folk. Thorin, are you happy to share a room with Fíli and Kíli, or do you prefer a room to yourself?”

“We can share a room, as long as I don’t have to share a bed with them, we’re fine. Fíli kicks and Kíli is clingy when he’s asleep.”

“Hey!”

“Oi!” The pair cried.

“Never mind, lads, there’s plenty of beds, so he’ll have to sleep alone, while you get to keep warm together.” Bilbo attempted to console them, but they still pouted, anyway. “The three of them will have the blue room, of course... now that I think about it, it’s pretty close to being Durin blue. Can we put Dwalin and Balin in one room or are they likely to object?”

“No, they’ll be fine, so will the others if you keep them in family groups. So, Dwalin and Balin together. Dori, Nori and Ori, together and Bifur, Bofur and Bombur in another room. And Óin and Gloín are fine to share a room.” Thorin advised.

“Good, that’s good. Um… Dwalin and Balin in the light blue room, Bifur, Bombur and Bofur in the brown room, Dori, Nori and Ori in the lavender room and Óin and Gloín in the mint room.”

“Alright, then. You’ll deal with these three and we’ll see to the others, shall we?” Frodo asked, not aware that his fingers were twitching in Frerin’s direction as he spoke.

“That would be grand, Frodo, but wait a moment, please? Thorin? You never answered, you know. Are we waiting until Sunday or are we leaving tomorrow?”

“Huh… If we could leave tomorrow, I would prefer it, it’s a long way to Rivendell, let alone to Erebor. A day now could make a significant difference at the other end.” Thorin responded.

“Fair enough. Frodo, if you, Frerin and the lads, see the rest of the Company to their rooms, I’ll show Thorin, Fíli and Kíli to theirs and then, get to work on the last of the packing. Thorin? This way, boys.” He gestured for Thorin to lead the way, once in the hall, Bilbo lead them through the west hall to what Thorin initially thought a section of framed panelling, that turned out to be a discrete double-door, made to be nearly hidden.

“A secret door?” Fíli asked, his eyebrows climbing.

“No, not really. Father built the smial for mother as a part of their Marriage Agreement. They wanted a large family and the smial was built accordingly, unfortunately mother wasn’t able have that large family and to avoid upsetting her by reminding her of that, everyday, he had these doors build to camouflage the west hall, that’s where most of the extra rooms are. When mother’s family would visit, the doors were easily opened and when not needed, they remained closed.”

He lifted a lever near the timberwork of the arch and the door swung inward, he pushed them open and went into the first room on the left. It turned out to be a large airy room, with a pair of beds, not quite Man-sized, but more than large enough for a pair of dwarrow. All the curtains, those on the beds and windows were as close to Durin blue as Thorin had seen since leaving Erebor and the embroidery edging the bed-curtains were yellow and grey stars, obviously meant to be gold and sliver.

“Thorin?” Kíli held up a picture frame, in it, held in a net of fine threads was a Dwarroven hair clasp. Thorin sidled over and took the frame from his nephew, a frown on his face, the frown cleared as he realised, just what he was looking at. It was a hair clasp that had belonged to him, a long time ago.

“Bilbo? What did your mother look like, do you have a picture of her?” Thorin asked, his voice hoarse.

“Yes, I do. In the parlour. Why? What do you have there? Oh, that. Oh,… oh, it’s a hair clasp, I never realised, it was just there. Mother only ever said that she helped someone that was injured and they gave her that as a thank you.”

“It was mine, I was the one she helped. It was foul weather and I’d slipped and fallen, I caught my leg on a rock as I went down and tore it open. She found me minutes later, only a few yards from where I’d fallen. She bullied me up out of the gully, just in time to avoid a flash flood, she cleaned and treated the wound, stitching and strapping me up. I tried to give her gold but she laughed at me, in the end I managed to get her to take the clasp, I said that if she or her family ever needed anything to have some bring it to the Blue Mountains, I would see that assistance was provided. I never heard from or of her again.”

“That sounds like my mother.” Bilbo smiled sadly.

“What happened to her?” Fíli asked tentatively.

“Da got sick one winter and never quite got over it, he died in ’26, Mama was lost without him, she tried hard, she lasted eight years, but in the end she Faded. It’s been seven years since she joined Da.

“I’m sorry, Bilbo.” Kíli said sombrely.

“No, Kíli. There’s no need for that. Mama and Da are together, now. Mama might have been an adventurous soul, but she and Da had loved each other since they were faunts, the Baggins’ were horrified that their Heir was so set on a Took, but neither of them cared a wit what anyone else thought. It was painful to see her alone, so much so, that her death was a relief.”

“But, it left you alone.” Fíli said, just as quietly as his brother.

“Yes, it did. But, I’m not alone, anymore. Now, I have Frodo and the lads, as well as a smial full of dwarrow.” He assured them both. “Thorin, there’s a portrait of both of my parents in the parlour, if you want to see them, otherwise, I have packing to finish.”

Thorin gave a short bow and left the room, the two lads watched him go and exchanged a rapid, no-words-needed conversation, before they turned to Bilbo.

“Can I… can **_we_** help?” Bilbo’s bonded asked, his brother at his side.

“Of course, you can. Back to the storage room, then.” He shooed them out of the room and back to the storage area. “Right, so, what we’re doing is the final pack. Here’s a list of things that must go. Now, as you can see, with the pack open like this we can fit everything in before we try to close it. Clothes are rolled up here, each roll is a complete change. I’ve had a bit of play and I think we can get everything on the list in and maybe a few extra things, we’ll see. Watch me as I place things and you’ll see what I mean. Alright?”

“Sure, Bilbo.” The lads chirped, happy to help.

Bilbo had opened the pack flat, the rear/outer surface, a shallow shell, while the backrest section was deeper and had moulded timber slats that sat against the wearer’s back. The section that housed the quiver and scabbard running diagonally through the pack from the shoulder towards the opposite hip. Bilbo’s pack and one other had left-handed openings.

He put three of the rolls of clothing in the base of the pack, the traveller's kit went into the upper section along with another clothing roll, a wash kit and a small sewing kit.

“Bilbo? What if you want to get something out of your pack, do you have to undo all the clips?”

“Ah. See here? Each side is reinforced with a light frame, but each corner is jointed. I can undo the clips on the top of the pack and the left to get onto the left side. Or the top and the right side to get into the other side. Makes it a bit more versatile.” As he spoke the hobbit kept tucking things into the pack, when done, he turned to the next pack and did the same with it, as Kíli and Fíli filled the other packs. In short order the packs were done and the bedrolls tied, ready to go. Bilbo carefully checked the contents of the communal packs, the were small bags of herbs and spices, dried meats, travel ration cakes, first aid kits, ground covers and oilcloths. They were bundled and weighed, one against another, until Bilbo was satisfied that they were balanced and would cause no harm to sweet Apple, who had been relegated back to being a pack pony, again.

Less than an hour after entering the storeroom for the second time that night, Bilbo thought they were as ready as they were going to get. He wasn’t really looking forward to months of trekking across the wilderness, he wanted to see mountains again, true, but he was still a hobbit and most hobbits were much happier at home. For Bilbo, the only difference was that Bag End and Hobbiton were no longer ‘home’. That was nearly a thousand miles to the east.

As he finished and headed for the kitchen, he spotted his Bonded standing beside Thorin, the two looking at the pair of portraits hanging over the fireplace, a look of sadness on the face of the younger dwarf. Bilbo stayed just out of sight and listened to their conversation.

“He’s been alone for years, [Irak'Adad](Uncle).” The younger dwarf said.

“Not any more, he has us now, [Irakdashat](Nephew). We will see that he’s never alone again.” Thorin responded.

Bilbo’s bonded frowned slightly, not sure whether to be pleased or not.

“He and the others are giving up a great many things for us, we will see that none of them ever want for family again.” Thorin added, he’d seen the frown and remembering what a Heart Bond was supposed to be like, he altered his original statement to include the other hobbits, he didn’t want his nephew thinking that he saw Bilbo as anything but a member of the Company.

A noise at Bilbo’s side made him twitch and he looked over his shoulder, Thorin’s other nephew stood there leaning against the door frame with a cheeky grin, firmly in place.

“Eavesdropping is rude, Bilbo.” He whispered.

“So is sneaking up on people, you ridiculous dwarfling.” Bilbo replied, also in a whisper.

“Like what you hear?” The dwarf added.

Bilbo grinned evilly.

“Yes.” The dwarf laughed silently at him. “Enough of that, you brat. Go get your brother and Uncle and off to bed with the lot of you. The day is done and the night passing, if we want to be away from here any time before lunch, we’ll need a decent night’s sleep.”

 

Kakhfu = shit (faecal matter)

Idmém = bloody

fenet = thick

abanu-bund’l = stone-headed.

khazâd = dwarrow (multiple of dwarf)

Irak-Adad = uncle

Irakdashat = Nephew


	11. Leaving Bag End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit from the Thain  
> Another conversation overheard  
> Leaving Bag End finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edits - 26-Aug

A pounding on the door of Bag End woke Bilbo just as the sky was beginning to hint at light. Bilbo stumbled from his bed and grabbed his dressing gown, pulling it on and tying it as he stomped in the direction of the front door. He pulled open the door with a snarl.

“What?!”

His cousin Fortimbras stood there, chest heaving and short of breath.

“Bil…bo … I need … to talk … to you… about … those…lads … staying …here.” He gasped.

“Oh, Yavanna. What now?” Bilbo groaned.

“Bilbo, please!”

“Fine. Talk, Fortimbras and make it good. I don’t like being woken.” Bilbo was more than slightly surprised that all the racket hadn’t woken anyone else, to be honest.

“A Northern Bounder came to Tuckborough last week, not rare but still a novelty, he had dinner with us last night, as he was headed home today. He’s from Long Cleeve, so I asked to let them know that the lads had arrived and he said that he was the only one who’d left recently. I told him their names and he said there was no Merry, Pippin or Frodo in any of the Long Cleeve settlements and he was the only Sam. They’re lying to you Bilbo.” Fortimbras puffed out.

“Oh, dear, I had hoped this wouldn’t happen. Come in Fortim, there’s more to it than that.” Bilbo sighed. He lead the older hobbit to the kitchen and stoked up the fire.

“Bilbo? Aren’t you worried? They could be rogues.” Fortimbras fretted.

“Fortim, there’s a lot you don’t know and a lot you don’t **_need_** to know. But know this… I know these lads, I’ve known them for **_years_** , since their births.”

“Bilbo, they’re not that much younger than you, how is that possible?”

“Fortim, you don’t need to know that.”

“Bilbo Baggins, speaking as the Thain and as your cousin, yes, I do. Now, answer me. How is that possible?”

“The four of them are Restored.” Bilbo put a kettle on to heat.

“Bilbo, they’re lying, you have to realise that they’re playing you-”

“And so am I.”

“-for a… What?”

“The five of us are Restored.”

“Yavanna restored the five of you?” Fortimbras was stunned.

“No, of course not.”

“No, no, of course not, that's ridiculous. They-”

“Tulkas, Irmo and Manwë Restored us. Yavanna doesn’t have that type of power.” Bilbo put tea in the teapot and got down mugs in preparation for first breakfast.

“What?” Poor Fortimbras was so confused, Bilbo wasn’t reacting at all the way he should.

“Tulkas, Irmo and Manwë are responsible for Restoring us.”

“Tulkas, Irmo **_and_** Manwë? All **_three_** of them?”

“All three of them.” Bilbo was setting the table and didn’t hear soft feet padding down the hall, that paused outside the kitchen.

“But… but, why?”

“That is where you have to trust me, Fortim. I can’t tell you. Not all of it, anyway.”

“Then tell me what you can. Please Bilbo. I _**need**_ to know. Me. Your cousin, not the Thain. Me. Please. _**Please**_ , talk to me.” Fortimbras begged, nearly in tears.

“Now, now, Fortim. It’s going to be fine. Eventually. What I can tell you is… I've left the shire twice in my life, once at 51 and again at 111.” Fortim caught his breath and the hobbit’s gasp covered the sharp intake of breath from the dwarf in the hallway. “At 51, I journeyed east with a group of dwarrow, I helped them reclaim their home from a dragon. But some of them died, their leader and his two nephews. Almost forty years later a boating accident killed Frodo’s parents and he came to live with me. Nearly eighty years after my first trip, Frodo was left to fix one of my mistakes, as a result, he and I were invited to sail to Valinor with the elves.”

“Valinor? Truly?”

“Truly.”

“What was it like?”

“Frodo and I both used one word to describe it… Boring. Tulkas, Irmo and Manwë offered us the chance to come back and do it all again and this time see that none of them die.”

“Everyone dies, Bilbo, when it’s their time, it’s their time.”

“Maybe, but I will not stand by and watch my Heart Bond die without trying.” Bilbo snarled.

“Heart… Bond?” The older hobbit gasped.

When he saw his brother at the other end of the hall, the dwarf quickly signalled to him in Iglishmêk, warning that the hobbits hadn’t heard him approach and they were talking dwarrow deaths, his brother quickly and quietly joined him, leaning on the wall and remaining silent.

“Yes, Fortim. Heart Bond. I will not let him die this time, not without a fight. When Tulkas, Irmo and Manwë offered me the chance to do it again, Frodo demanded to come too and that got us talking and eventually it was decided that the five of us would be Restored. We will see it done. So yes, Fortim, I know the lads, I’ve known them for decades and I trust them with my life. While I may not know everything there is to know about them, what I don’t know, isn’t worth knowing.”

“Oh, stars above. What can I do? Can I help in any way?”

“The only way you can help, Fortim, is by staying out of it. Be the Thain. I won’t be returning to the Shire, Fortim. If all goes well, I’ll be staying with my dwarf, his uncle and brother in Erebor.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“You don’t want me to answer that, Fortim.”

“Bilbo!” The exclamation covered the whimper from a dwarf in the hall.

“You will see to my estate as per my instructions, Fortimbras Took, second of that name, Thain of the Shire. As The Baggins of Bag End, I charge you with this duty.” The other hobbit moaned, almost in pain, at the cold hardness of Bilbo’s voice.

“As Thain, I will do as you require… but I don’t have to like it, Bilbo.” A tear ran down his cheek.

Unseen by either of them, tears ran down the cheeks of a dwarf, his brother gently easing him away from the wall and guiding him back down the hallway to the bathroom. Closing the door as quietly as possible, the dwarf eased his distraught brother over to the sink.

“Shh now, shh, [nadad](brother).”

“He’s… he’s…”

“I know, nadad, I know.” The brothers leant against each other, drawing comfort from decades of affinity.

“He’s planning to die, if we do.”

“Then we don’t die, [nadad](brother). As simple as that.”

“We could take him home to [Amad](moher), to the Blue Mountains and stay there.”

“That won’t work, lads.” Both brothers had been so engrossed, that they had not heard Thorin open the bathroom's door.

“What?” Said one brother.

“Why not?” Asked the other.

“Yesterday, when I was doubted the wisdom of taking eight princes halfway across Arda, he slapped me across the face and told me in no uncertain terms, that if I wasn’t going to step up and lead this quest, he would. If I thought for one second that sending the three of you back to the Blue Mountains would work…?” he sighed.

“Thorin… he said that when he’d done this quest before, we died. Us. I died. His Heart Bond died. Our Uncle died. We died, Thorin. The three of us.” One brother whimpered.

“And he would never have told us.” The other sobbed.

“Lads… that’s enough, now.” He faced one nephew. “You have two choices. You can get it together and not let him know, let your Bond grow, get to know him, show him the dwarf that you are. **_Or?_** You can continue to blubber like a dwarfling, he’ll know you were eavesdropping, he may doubt your actions and he may even begin to doubt your Bond.” Thorin said sternly. “My advice, [Irakdashat](nephew)? Wash your face, lay down for a bit and think about **_what_ ** you want him to think of you.” He turned to his other nephew. “Take your brother back to our room, get him back to bed, hold him, sing to him… I don’t care what you do. Just… talk to him, don’t let him throw the chance away. He’ll regret it. Believe me, he’ll regret it.” There was pain in Thorin’s eyes as he said that last sentence. “I’ll cover for you, this time, I’ll tell him… something.”

Back in the kitchen, Bilbo Fortimbras were still sitting there, the tea was made and they were sipping from delicate pottery. Thorin entered the kitchen slowly, he looked tired and drawn. Fortimbras looked at him in puzzlement, then turned to Bilbo and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Fortimbras Took. Thorin Oakenshield. Thain of the shire. Leader of Durin’s Folk.” Bilbo only waved in each direction as he spoke. He made no effort to formally introduce anyone.

“Well, Bilbo, thank you for the tea. I’ll be off, now. I’ll do as you directed, but please, please… let me know, either way. I **_need_** you to let me know. **_Please_**.” The portly hobbit begged. Bilbo sighed.

“It won’t change anything, but, alright. I’ll have a message sent.” Bilbo sighed.

“See that you do, or I’ll set Aunt Magnolia on you. And no one wants that, do they?”

Bilbo shuddered.

“No.”

“Good.” Fortimbras turned to Thorin. “Keep him, and yourselves in one piece.” He walked out the door of the kitchen and slammed the smial’s front door behind him.

“Morning, Thorin.”

“He wasn’t happy.” Thorin ignored the greeting, sitting down at the table opposite the hobbit.

“He heard something he didn’t like. I told him I wouldn’t be returning to the Shire after our quest.” The hobbit bustled around making a pot of coffee, placing it, milk, sugar and a spoon on the table in front of the dwarf.

“Hmm. I can see that didn’t go well.”

“No, it didn’t. Did you sleep well?” Bilbo changed the subject.

“I did. Until Fíli and Kíli woke me. They didn’t have good night, oh, don’t get me wrong, they slept well, but waking up? This is the first time either of them have been away from home for any length of time and waking up in comfortable beds, then finding out, it’s not **_their_** beds? They were in the bathroom, hiding a meltdown when I found them.” Nothing he said wasn’t true, but it also wasn’t all the truth, not by a long shot.

“Their ages? I know how old they are, but how does that compare? I mean, I’m 51, but hobbits come of age at 33, so I’m approaching my middle years. Where are they?”

Thorin wasn’t too concerned with Bilbo’s age, he knew that once he had sealed his Bond, that being the shorter-lived of the two, his lifespan would be altered to that of his Bonded. It was just one benefit of a true Bond.

“Fíli is 83 and Kíli is 77. Dwarrow come of age at 75, so they’re both very young, I hesitated over bringing either of them, but Dís was adamant, that I did. We can expect them to make mistakes, but their hearts are in the right place. They are both strong and stubborn, but they’re also kind and caring. I refuse to help raise them as we were raised, to care only about our position in life and not about those around us. Dís and I left that behind after Azanulbizar cost us everything we cared about. Hmm… Should I sent Dís a raven, do you think? To tell her of Frerin?”

“Not yet. From what I remember of her, she’s a very determined dwarrowdam. Yes? Yes, I thought so. If you tell her now, what’s to stop her from trying to catch up with us?”

Thorin grimaced.

“Nothing. Nothing, at all. Rivendell, then?”

“Rivendell sounds fine, we should be across the Misty Mountains, before a raven could reach her. She could only set out eastward, there’d be no chance of her catching us before Erebor.” Bilbo agreed.

A patter of feet came down the hall and a pair of sorry looking dwarrow entered the kitchen. Fíli and Kíli both approached their uncle with a pleading look, he sighed and pushed his chair back from the table, until the two could sink to the floor, one on each side of him, they leant forward and laid their heads on his thighs. Their uncle ran his fingers through their hair as the soaked up the calm he exuded. Bilbo raised an eyebrow.

“I see what you mean.” He mouthed silently and Thorin nodded. The hobbit got to his feet and quietly made a pot of tea, using the mix his father had created for his mother, for when the near-empty smial became too quiet and her distress reached for the skies. It was a mix of Chamomile, Lemon Balm, Linden and Lavender, calming and easy on the stomach, it eased tension and let a body settle. He made a mental note to pack the remaining mix, to take with him.

Instead of placing the mugs in front of Thorin, Bilbo tapped the table softly, the two lads raised their heads and looked at him, eyes rimmed in red, tears still caught on their lashes.

“Come here, lads, this will help. Let Thorin drink his coff-”

Bilbo got no further on his request before both lads were up, around the table and burying their heads in his shoulders, again, one on each side, squashing him in a grasping embrace. He blinked at Thorin, who was trying not to laugh at the look on the hobbit’s face. Bilbo rolled his eyes and nudged the dwarf-shaped leeches clinging to him, until the three of them were in front of a chair, he sank down onto the chair, the pair of dwarrow moving with him. He wrapped an arm around each of them, like Thorin, he ran his fingers through their hair, the lads settling, slowly.

Eventually his Bonded lifted his head and looked at Bilbo.

“Sorry, Bilbo.” He whimpered.

“We really are.” His brother added.

“Now, now, lads. It’s alright. Here.” He lifted his arm from around one dwarf and reached for a mug. “Fíli, take this, sip it slowly. Kíli, here’s one for you, too.” He offered one mug to each brother and rearranged his arms around the pair, his head resting lightly against his Bonded.

Frodo entered the kitchen, stumbling a little when he saw his uncle cuddling a pair of still upset dwarrow, sitting opposite a smirking Thorin.

“Morning, Bilbo.” He kept his voice low to avoid startling anyone.

“Morning Frodo. Tea’s made, red and black.” Frodo blinked, before remembering that red tea was the stress-tea, as Bilbo always called it.

“Thanks.” Knowing the day was going to be busy, he poured himself a mug of red tea, just in case. “Want me to make some brekkie-bread?”

“No. Definitely not… but you can get the makings together for me. Thorin? A word of warning. Never let Frodo cook. Ever.” Bilbo said, at his side Fíli made a muffled sound, but Kíli only snorted.

“Same with Fíli. Kíli can do some basics, but Fíli? He can burn water.” Thorin winced as he spoke.

“Not fair.” Frodo pouted. “Mama never shared her kitchen with anyone, other than you or cousin Esmeralda. Neither Papa or I were even allowed in it, we had to eat in the sunroom.”

“That’s only because, before they were married, your father and your uncle Dudo swapped your grandmother Mirabella’s sugar with salt as a prank, neither of them were trusted in a kitchen ever again.” This time Fíli did laugh and Kíli smothered a giggle. “Alright, lads. Time to move, I need to get the bread in the oven. You can help or you can go get your things together and wake the others.” He urged the pair to their feet, patting their hands absently. They got to their feet and Fíli shuffled off in the direction of their room, while Kíli wiped his face on his sleeve and went to help Frodo carry supplies in from the pantries.

Two hours later the extended Company were ready to set off. Bilbo had dropped a key down to Holman Greenhand and was trotting back up the Row. He reached the herd of ponies and made a show of checking that Frodo wasn’t in pain after mounting his pony, knowing that some eagle-eyed hobbit, somewhere, would be watching. He mounted his own pony, being held by Fíli, taking his pack being held by Kíli, he smiled at both dwarrow and patted their shoulders as he nudged Pebble out of the way of the other riders. Within minutes they were on the move and Bilbo, one again, had a dwarf at each elbow.

Down Bagshot Row towards Hobbiton proper, through the village and on to Bywater and the East-West Road, where they would turn east. Hobbits greeted Bilbo and looked askance at the rest of the Company, but seeing Frodo with his arm in a sling, had many of them nodding, it was well-known that for serious injuries, rangers and elves were sent for. That fact that Frodo was on a pony meant that he was well enough to travel, no healer worth their bandages would call an elf for someone that well. It was also well-known that Belladonna Took had travelled to Rivendell a number of times, so Bilbo accompanying Frodo was not unexpected.

After a few hours, Bilbo nudged Pebble up alongside Thorin’s black mountain pony.

“Thorin, please tell me this isn’t the speed you plan to travel at, for the whole journey?” he asked, bluntly.

“What’s wrong with our speed?” Thorin responded, puzzled, he thought they were making fair time.

“At this speed we’re likely to get 10 to 12 miles each day.”

“Yes and what’s the problem with that?”

“A hobbit on a walking holiday can comfortably do 20-25 miles a days for a week or more.”

Thorin’s mouth opened and closed.

“25 miles? On **_foot?_** Really?”

“Yes, perhaps more. We went to Michel Delving a fortnight ago, it’s 57 mile from Bag End and we did it comfortably in two days, Thorin, two days. And you want us to amble along at 10 mile a day? Hobbiton’s 80 odd mile from Bree, we should be able to do that in four or five days, but you want to take eight? I thought time was important?”

“Bilbo, if you can get these stupid animals to move any faster, be my guest. I would be happy to travel faster, if not for these beasts.” Thorin intensely disliked ponies, any dwarf could walk faster than these sluggish beasts, but they couldn’t keep it up for hours at a time.

“Hmmm… we might be smart to stop in Bywater for a few hours.” Bilbo started.

“What? Why?” Thorin cut in before he could explain.

“Friday and Saturday’s in Bywater are trading days. If we can get a hold of Bounder Jonath again, we might be able to trade some of these Mountain ponies for some more Rohirrim ones.”

“What’s so special about a Rohirrim pony?” Kíli asked from his position at Bilbo’s left.

“Rohirrim ponies are fast, strong and are bred specifically for endurance. The Shire Shirrifs and the Bounders use them for perimeter duties and the postal service won’t use any other type of ponies.”

“Our finances may not stretch to meet the cost of purchasing 13 Rohirrim ponies, Bilbo.” Thorin cautioned.

“Ah… well, isn’t it a good thing you have me along? Remember what I was telling you last night about being The Baggins of Bag End?” The hobbit grinned.

“Yes?” came a very hesitant reply.

“Well, need I say more?” His grin became a smirk.

“But that’s not our finances, is it?” Fíli asked.

“You can pay the difference between what we get for these thugs and what we have to pay for Rohirrim ponies, keep a note and pay me when we reach Erebor. We might need the funds later, so just bite your tongue and let me see to buying the ponies. Besides, it’ll likely be among my last acts as The Baggins. I sent word last week, to the Market manager, that I’d be collecting this months rents in person, so we’ll be stopping there anyway.”

“Rents?” Kíli asked.

“Manager?” Fíli asked, from where he rode on Thorin’s right.

“Later, boys, please.” Bilbo turned in his saddle and called back down the column. “Merry!” It took a few minutes for Merry, with Pippin in tow, to reach him.

“Yes, Bilbo?”

“Be gents and ride for Bywater, would you? See if you can find Jonath, we’re going to need another 14 Rohirrim-type ponies. Oh, and appropriate gear, too. We’ll keep on, at this pace we’re probably another hour or so, before we get there. We’d like to trade the Mountain ponies on the others or at the least sell them on. See what you can do, please.”

“Right… I’d best take a couple of them. Fíli, Kíli, you swap with me and Pippin. That’ll give Jonath an idea of the quality of what have, he already knows what quality we’ll want.” As he spoke, he pulled up and slipped off his Holly and just about dragged Kíli off his chestnut gelding. Fíli was already off his grey mare and holding her as Pippin was clambering down from his Blaze. The two at first nudged the ponies, but when that failed to garner much of a response, Merry tightened his reins and with a thump, dug his heels in the chestnut’s sides and woke the pony up, out of it’s stupor. With a jerk the pony finally began to move at a reasonable speed, Pippin at his heels, the two increased speed and headed for Bywater.

Three hours and a change of ponies, makes a massive difference. While they were still walking, they were no longer ambling along, instead the ponies strode out wanting to move. Bilbo estimated that if they stopped just past the Three-Farthing Stone that night, he’d guess that they should cross the Brandywine River sometime on Monday and maybe, they’d be through Bree by Wednesday, assuming they had no complications.


	12. Making the Right Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new addition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING WARNING
> 
> Inpersonal report of a physical partial-assult against a minor. Not graphic, but clearly stated.  
> Details of severe shock reactions. Again, not graphic, but stated.
> 
> edits 26-Aug

Bilbo was telling Fíli and Kíli about breaking into the Mathom-House to steal back his mother’s silver tea service, as they approached the tiny settlement of Whitfurrows, Thorin, Frodo and Frerin in the lead. Behind them Merry and Pippin, chatted with Bofur, Ori, Nori and Balin, while Sam compared recipes with Bombur, Dori and Óin.

They must have been spotted coming down the last rise before the cluster of buildings, as a small delegation of hobbits was waiting patiently at the turn to the Brockenborings, lead by a pair of Bounders and a Shirrif’s deputy.

“Master Baggins?” Thorin called as he came to a halt. Over the last two days, Thorin had taken to calling him by his given name only late in the evenings or early mornings, times when he was certain there was no one to hear his lack of formality. After a number of incidences of hobbit tweens being spotted spying on the Company, the formality was adopted by the entire Company, regardless of time of day.

“Master Oakenshield?”

“I think these people wish to speak with you.”

“Quite likely, but I’ve no idea why.”

“I think it might be wise to sent most of the Company on ahead, you said there was a field set aside for rangers, bounders and travellers? Do one of your people know where we might find this space?”

Before Bilbo could answer that none of his lads should know of it, a voice spoke from a tree at the side of the road.

“I know where it is Mister Baggins. I can show your dwarfses, if they’ll follow me?” The voice turned out to belong to a young fauntling, Bilbo looked hard at the child and realised that this was the youngster that would, one day, be called Farmer Maggott, now he was a child, who had yet to see his Fauntday.

“Why Mace Maggott, come down out of that tree, this instant.” Bilbo fretted. The lad clambered down, looking for all the world like a hobbit-shaped squirrel. When he stood at the shoulder of Kíli’s pony, Bilbo spoke again. “Thank you, Mace. Now, lad, do you know why the Bounders are here?”

“Yes, Mister Baggins.” The lad chirped.

“Would you tell me, why?”

“Yes, Mister Baggins. Uncle Balsam got drunk and attacked Posy Peachum, her Da stopped him before he killed her, but the healer said her Da had a heart strike or a brain storm or something and he died, too.” Oh, Yavanna have mercy, Bilbo remembered that Posy’s mother, Begonia, drowned in the floods, four years earlier and now her father was dead, too. The lad continued, “There’s something wrong with Posy, in her mind and I heard, Mama and healer Tansy talking. They want to send her to the elves, to get better.” As the lad said this, all the dwarrow in hearing, tensed. To them, their dwarrowdams were highly valued, to know that someone had attacked a woman was shocking and even the hobbits were alarmed.

“Master Oakenshield? A word, please?” Bilbo asked. “Kíli, Fíli, would one of you put young Mace, here, up on Apple, please?”

“Yes, Master Baggins.” All three Durins answered at the same time. Fíli and Kíli, both dismounted and walked the young hobbit to the rear of the ponies, where sweet little Apple stood, as patiently as ever.

“Yes, Master Baggins.” Thorin said again as he eased his dark grey mare around beside Bilbo’s Pebble.

“Thorin, I don’t know what to do about this.”

“If you know me as well as you say you do and I’m beginning to think you just might, then you know how dwarrow feel about their womenfolk.”

“Yes, that’s true, but Posy isn’t a woman, not yet, she’s still a child. Well, a tween, anyway. I think from memory she’s about 25… um… about 50 or 55 for a dwarf.” The hobbit added.

“That makes it worse. Children are a Gift from Mahal, Master Baggins. Speak to this healer and find out exactly what they want, we will help if we can. I have no love for elves, but from what your Nas and Gandalf have said, they are not likely to turn away anyone injured, much less a child.”

“No, that is true, they would not.” Something occurred to Bilbo. “Thorin, I would have you, Óin, Frodo, Frerin and the lads, there, when I speak to them.” He nodded in the direction of the gathered hobbits. “It may save of time and, who knows, maybe Óin can help Posy.”

“As you wish. Dwalin!” Thorin waited until his friend joined them, a scowl on the guard’s face.

“Aye, Thorin?” he asked.

“You heard? What the lad said, you heard?”

“Aye.”

“Did you also hear what Master Baggins said?”

“Nae, I din’t.”

“This Posy isn’t just a female, she’s also a child. According to Master Baggins, she’s six to eight years from her Coming-of-Age.” Thorin told his friend quietly, he watched as Dwalin’s eyes widened and his scowl deepened.

“A child? An adult attacked a child? Wha’ happened t’ the monster?” Dwalin growled savagely.

“I don’t know, yet, the lad didn’t say. Master Baggins says Elrond of Rivendell - and from what little I know of him, I agree – would not turn away an injured child. Master Baggins wants to hear exactly what they want of him, before deciding if we should help.”

“Tis a long way t’ Rivendell, Thorin. Wha’ if we should meet trouble? An injured lass could be a vulnerability.” Dwalin warned.

“I know, but until we know exactly what the healers here want? It’s a moot point. If she came with us?... I think we could assign Ori and Óin to see to her, depending on the circumstances, maybe some of the hobbits and Frerin, too.”

“Tha' might work. I’ll think on't. What now?”

“Master Baggins wants the lad to show the Company where we can camp for the night. He’s also asked for Óin, Frerin and Frodo, the lads and I to stay and hear what the healers have to say. I would have you lead the Company in my stead.”

“Aye. I’ll see to ‘em. Do I tell ‘em? About the lass, I mean? Or should I wait?”

“Tell them, but do it separately, give them a chance to vent away from the little one.”

“Aye, good thinking. When do we leave ye?” Dwalin asked.

“When we reach them, we’ll stop and you continue on, please, Captain Dwalin.” Bilbo answered, nodding in the direction of the waiting hobbits.

“Right ye are.” Dwalin turned his pony and rode back to his position beside Gloín, he leant closer to the redhead and the two whispered urgently, back and forth, in Khuzdul.

Fíli and Kíli returned with young Mace perched on Apple’s back, Fíli held the lead rope while Kíli mounted his bay pony, he’d named it Dolpher, apparently Dolpher was a rich red sandstone and a colour match for the pony, after he was in the saddle, Fíli handed his brother the reins and mounted his own pony. He’d chosen a dark grey mare with long white stockings, for some unknown reason, he’d called her Shawl, Bilbo made a note to himself to ask the blonde, why. The two young dwarrow took their usual places at his sides and with a nod to Thorin, the group began to move again.

It took perhaps, two or three minutes for them to reach the gathered hobbits. At the front of the group stood healer Tansy, the two Bounders and the Shirrrf’s deputy. Farmer Maggott – senior – stood off to one side, a disgruntled look on his face, his wife, who Bilbo could only ever recall being called Mother Maggott, just behind him, with two of the massive dogs they bred, sitting at her feet. Both dogs lifted their heads and eyed the newcomers with interest.

“Master Baggins.” The Bounder said. “I’m Bounder Alder, this is trainee Bounder Jarrot, healer Tansy and Shirrif’s deputy Malden. We’d like a word, please.”

“Certainly, Bounder Alder. Master Oakenshield, if your dwarrow would go with young Mace, he’ll show them to the open encampment area. But I’d like you, your sister-sons, your brother and your healer to stay please. Frodo, you stay, too, please.”

“Ah?... Master Baggins? This is a delicate matter, a hobbit matter. It might be best-”

“If young Mace Maggot was right and this is about Posy and wanting me to take her to Rivendell… then it involves Master Oakenshield. The lads and I are travelling with him and his Company. **_Not_** the other way around. He and his people stay or I and mine, leave.” Bilbo was adamant.

There were a few unhappy grumbles about this, until Mother Maggott snorted and the pair of dogs at her feet growled. That put an instant stop to the hobbits.

“Very well.” The Bounder wasn’t displeased with this result. “I don’t know how much you know or what Mace told you, so… I’ll start at the beginning and when I’m finished, you’ll understand why we’ll ask what we will. Agreed?” The Bounder looked around at the other hobbits and while there were a few unhappy faces, no one dared to disagree with Mother Maggott, especially with dogs at her feet. He waited until Bilbo and those staying had dismounted and for young Mace and the remains of the Company, with Dwalin in the lead, to continue on through the settlement.

“Right, then.” The Bounder took a deep breath and began his report. “Last Thursday evening, Jace Carver the Wheelwright heard screams issuing from the yard of Willibald Peachum, upon investigation he and Miller Bobbin saw Balsam Maggott holding Posy Peachum by the neck and trying to remove her skirts, before either of them could react, Willibald Peachum exited the smial and a fight ensued between Mister Maggott and Mister Peachum. Mister Carver and Miller Bobbin exited the Wheelwright’s shop and entered the Peachum yard, here they and Shirrif’s deputy Malden and Tavern Keeper Hopling, pulled the two combatants apart. Shirrif’s deputy Malden and Mister Carver restrained Mister Maggot with ropes, he was yelling abuse and threats against Mister Peachum and Miss Peachum, some of these of a intimate nature. Given Miss Peachum’s age, these threats were reviling and cause for Shirrif’s deputy Malden to call for a Bounder team.” Here the Bounder paused, taking a few deep breathes, he proceeded with his narration.

“A runner was sent to the Bounder Station at Frogmorton and Bounder Leader Rogget assigned myself and Trainee Jarrot to see to the incident. Upon arrival we were informed that Mister Maggott had released himself from his restraints and attempted to attack Miss Peachum a second time, causing the death of Mister Peachum, by forcibly pushing him to the ground, where Mister Peachum’s head came in contact with the flagstone paving, Mister Maggott again had Miss Peachum by the throat and was shaking her, screaming abuse at her, at this point, Shirrif’s deputy Malden and Mister Carver were forced to render Mister Maggott unconscious, he was taken to the Shirrif’s smial and tied hand and foot. Healer’s were called for Mister and Miss Peachum.” The Bounder wiped his forehead and sighed.

“There was nothing to be done for Mister Peachum, healer Tansy declared him deceased and sent for the undertakers, she then turned her attention to Miss Peachum. After many hours of treatment, healer Tansy has stated that the multiple insults to Miss Peachum have caused her to go into a catatonic-like state. She responds to stimuli, in a limited fashion. She will eat if handed food directly, but if a plate is put in front of her, it will be ignored. She will stand when told, she will sit when told, but she makes no effort to initiate movement of any sort. Since the moment that Mister Peachum removed her from Mister Maggott’s grasp, she has made no attempt to communicate verbally, or in any other way and healer Tansy believes that Miss Peachum has retreated inside her own mind, to the extent, that she may never re-enter the outside world.”

Here another hobbit, wearing the cloak and pin that proclaimed her a healer, came forward.

“It is well known that Elrond of Rivendell is one of Middle Earth’s most respected healers, it is also well known that Belladonna Took, your mother, was a frequent visitor to Rivendell and was considered the favourite hobbit of Elrond and his family. We are hoping that Elrond can help Posy. I’ve talked with my counterparts in Frogmorton and in Stock, neither had any ideas that may help and both agreed that Elrond is her best hope for any recovery.” Her tightly held control snapped and she collapsed against the young Bounder Trainee, nearly sobbing.

“We would like you to take her to Rivendell, Master Baggins. There’s no one else that can. She has no living family, not anymore. Her mother drowned four years past, along with her grandmother and her father was buried this morning. Please, Master Baggins, please take her with you, take her to Rivendell, please. If you will, I have been given the authority to declare you her guardian, with all the rights and responsibilities that go with it.” The Bounder added.

Bilbo sagged against his pony. This was far worse than he’d thought, it was appalling.

“Before I answer that, I need to know. What’s going to happen to Balsam Maggott?” He wasn’t game to look at Thorin, he knew the dwarf would be holding onto his restraint by a hair’s breadth and he could hear Fíli and Kíli, whimpering.

“After he regained consciousness and was declared uninjured and sober by healer Tansy, Mister Maggott continued to hurl abuse, at Shirrif’s deputy Malden, myself, healer Tansy and even his own brother, Farmer Bracken Maggott. In addition to this he continued to issue threats of a physical nature against Miss Peachum. The Master of Buckland sent an entire squad of Bounders and Guards to take him to Brandyhall, yesterday, the Master declared him unfit for society and Mister Maggott attempted to injure the Master.” Bilbo gasped. “He never got to the Master, the Guards captured him, but it forced the Master’s hand. Mister Balsam Maggott was executed this morning at first light, his body will be returned to his brother, who is declared his Heir and responsible for his debts. Farmer Bracken Maggott has offered a significant amount of gold, but is not prepared to take Miss Peachum in, no one here begrudges this, Farmer and Mother Maggot already have eleven children, ranging in age from a lad in his late tweens to a girl still in swaddling clothes.” Bilbo heard Thorin gasp behind him, at that last sentence.

“Thank you Bounder Alder, healer Tansy. I would like to speak with Master Oakenshield for a few moments, this, at least initially, effects more than just myself. Please excuse us for a minute or two. Master Oakenshield, lads? Over here please.”

He left the ponies where they were and walked a few yards away from them, leaning against a rock wall, he shook from head to toe. Fíli and Kíli appeared at his sides within seconds, each rested a warm hand on his arm and he could feel them both trembling.

“Bilbo, are you…?” Fíli hesitated.

“Bilbo, will you be alright?” Kíli was a little more intuitive.

“Give me some time and I should be.” He took a few deep breaths and finally lifted his head.

Frodo was pale, almost grey, shock clearly evident on his face, Óin and Frerin tending to him, the only positive there.

“Bilbo?” Thorin asked very quietly. “What just happened? You and Frodo were shaken but… you both seemed alright until the Bounder answer your question about the attacker. Why was that?”

Bilbo leant on his Bonded and the other young dwarf for a few seconds before answering.

“For someone to attack another person like that was upsetting, yes, but not everyone is a good person, no one had tried to attack the Master of Buckland before, that was shocking. But the bit that was the worst was hearing that Gordbadoc Brandybuck was forced to execute him. There hasn’t been an execution in the Shire in… in… Huh… Hobbits came to the Shire roughly 1300 years ago and the last execution was in 2120, so… about 820 years ago.”

“Ah. That would explain it…. What do you want to do? I know we aren’t stopping in Rivendell for long, but… Do you think Elrond can help her?” Thorin replied.

“If anyone can, Thorin, Elrond can. If she can be brought out off this, he’s her only hope. My heart say we should take her, but my mind says, there’s a lot of dangers between here and Rivendell.”

“I mentioned to Dwalin, that if she came and we got into any trouble, we could assign Ori and Óin to keeping her safe, depending on the situation, of course.”

“And what did he say? Will that work?”

“I believe it will.”

“In that case,… I’d like to take her, firstly to Rivendell and then once the rest is done, to bring her to the Mountain. I don’t think bringing her back here, to the Shire, is going to help her, not in the long run.” Bilbo mused, out loud.

“I agree, Master Baggins.” Óin said as loudly as ever. “Leaving her here is criminal and if you’d decided that way, then I would have stood up and offered to take her myself.” The healer bluntly informed them.

“So… it seems she’s coming with us, then.” Bilbo offered a bittersweet smile.

A giggle came from Bilbo’s right and when he turned to look, Frodo was flushed and his eyes filled with mischievousness.

“What?” The other hobbit said. “Can’t you imagine the look of confusion on Gandalf’s face? When you tell him, you’re a father now and you weren’t this morning.”

Bilbo laughed out loud.

“Serves him right for going off and leaving us, before we’re even out of the Shire.” Thorin grumbled.

“Now, now, Thorin. We don’t know why he needed go, if we need to know, I’m sure he’ll tell us… eventually.” Bilbo chided gently. “Now, shall we tell Bounder Alder? I’m sure there’ll be paperwork to do, as well as we’ll want some of Posy’s things from her… father’s smial.”

Bilbo lead the group back to the gathered hobbits.

“Bounder Alder? After discussing the matter, I agree to becoming guardian to Posy Peachum. I will see that she gets to Rivendell and I will give a prayer to Yavanna and Erú, himself, that Elrond can help her.”

Many of the hobbits sighed in relief. Farmer Maggott’s shoulder’s fell, whether in relief or resignation, Bilbo couldn’t tell, but Mother Maggott smile said she was pleased.

“Thank you, Master Baggins, thank you.” She said.

“Mother Maggott, we’re travelling, can you put together a selection of travel clothes for Posy, I don’t know if she’s worn them much before, but trousers would be better for riding. They could also give her a sense of security, too, no skirts to be pulled. If you could find three or four changes, a pack and ... oh, heavens, she’s not **_that_** age yet, is she?” Suddenly frantic, Bilbo asked.

“No, not yet, she's only 26, so she's got at least another three years, before you need to worry about **_that_**.”

“Oh, thank you, sweet Yavanna.” Bilbo sighed in relief, even as Thorin frowned. “Later, Master Oakenshield.” He turned back to Mother Maggott. “Is there anything special, of hers or her mother’s or father’s, that we should bring, bearing in mind that we are trying to travel light and that she may be in Rivendell for some time. For that matter… where is Posy?” Bilbo realised that he hadn’t seen the child in question, at all.

“Right now, she’s in her room, we were hoping, well, praying, that you would take her, so my eldest daughter is with her. Daisy was going to try and get her to pack some things, but… who knows if that happened. If you like, I’ll take you there, now, and we get whatever you think she’ll need.”

“Let’s get the paperwork out of the way, first, shall we?” Bilbo asked, as he did, Bounder Alder approached.

“It’s very simple, Master Baggins. Six pieces of paper for you to sign. One for the Master of Buckland, one for the Shirrif’s office, here. The other four are for you, to take with you, you may need to show them for whatever reason. If you’ll sign here, on each page, that’s all there is to it.” The Bounder showed Bilbo where to sign and within a minute he had the four copies, bundled up in individual document tubes, each one as round as a finger and about eight inches long. He handed them to Frodo and spoke to Thorin.

“Master Oakenshield, I’m thinking that perhaps, you, Frodo, Frerin and Óin should remain here, while Fíli and Kíli and I, go to Posy’s smial, if Fíli and Kíli wait in the parlour, we can introduce your dwarrow incrementally. It might help to ease her into the group.”

“That may work. Very well, we are in your hands, Master Baggins. Fíli, Kíli, go with Master Baggins, please. We’ll remain here, until your return.”

“Yes, Uncle.” The two replied, speaking as one and moving to Bilbo’s side.

Mother Maggot, the dogs at her heels both eyeing Bilbo as they walked, lead them a few yards up the Brockenborings road, in the gate of a small yard and into an equally small smial. The inside was tired, but well maintained, the walls clean, but the floors showed a lot of traffic in the last few days and there was a layer of dirt and dust as a result.

“If you lads will wait here, I’ll take Master Baggins to Posy’s room and we’ll see what’s been done about packing.” Mother Maggott didn’t give them a chance to argue.

“Master Baggins? [Imhil astû ithrig-zun zegar?](Do%20you%20carry%20your%20blades?)” Fíli asked in a formal tone.

“[Kun, Fíli, e imhil. Ins hikhthuzul](Yes,%20F%C3%ADli,%20I%20do.%20As%20always).” Bilbo turned to Mother Maggott. “Which room is Posy’s, Mother Maggot?” She frowned, puzzled, for a second, but clearly there were more important things than Bilbo’s language skills, on her mind.

“This way.” She headed down a hallway and Bilbo followed, as he did, a thought occurred to him.

“If Balsam scared her so badly, that she’s shut down? How is she going to handle other males around her?”

“She’s show no concern for gender, it’s only the males of my husband’s family that she shows any fear of, no one else even rates a reaction, so far, but the dark hobbit with you might be an issue, he has the same colouring as my husband, so I’m not sure. Here we are.” She knocked on the door and pushed it open.

Inside a pair of tween girls sat on the bed, it was instantly obvious which one was Posy, as only one reacted to their arrival. One girl was undoubtedly a Maggott, she had her mother’s rich colouring. The other girl was tiny, even for a hobbit-lass. She seemed to be all hair, a mass of white-blonde curls contrasted brilliantly with her golden, honeyed skin. With a pair of largest, widest, brightest grass green eyes Bilbo could ever recall seeing, she was the very vision of Yavanna in the flesh.

“Girls, this is Master Baggins. He’s now Posy’s guardian and he’s going to take her on an adventure. He’s taking an injured hobbit lad to Rivendell, to the elves, for healing and now Posy gets to go, too. Isn’t that exciting?” She plastered a fake smile on her face, as she spoke.

“Posy? Do you have any trousers? We’re going to be riding and skirts are going to get in the way, so I’d prefer you left them behind or wear them **_over_** some trousers.” There was a flicker on the blonde’s face, gone before it could be read. However… Posy stood and walked slowly to a set of drawers and pulled out a pair of trousers and handed them to him.

“Oh, they’re exactly what you need, perfect. I think, four pairs, should do. Do you have four pairs? And a few heavy shirts, some unders, a good warm cloak and a pack to carry it all in, my dear.” Bilbo kept on, chatting as she handed each item to him, he rolled and laid it on the bed. Posy moved around the room, seeming to be nearly sleepwalking, as she fetched each item Bilbo asked for. “Now, don’t forget your toiletries, dear, we might be travelling but we can still clean up when the chance arises. Oh, and as we don’t know, yet, how long we’ll be staying in Rivendell, is there anything really special that you don’t want to be without?” He continued to prattle on while he thought about how to cement Frodo in her life, as a safe hobbit. As he chattered to the girl, a part of his mind wondered how his Bonded woul-… Bonded? Bonded?… yes, that would work.

He walked to the window and looked out, he could see Thorin, Óin, Frerin and Frodo waiting patiently with the ponies.

“Posy? Come here, please, dear.” Silently the girl came to his side. “Look out there. Do your see those dwarves?” Being a lowly wagoneer’s daughter, it was unlikely she would know the correctt term for more than one dwarf. The girl looked out the window and then back at Bilbo, no reaction on her face. “See the black haired hobbit with them?” She looked out the window again, this time Bilbo saw tension tighten her shoulders. “See the blonde dwarf beside him?” As she turned looked away from Frodo, the tension eased slightly. “He’s a silly hobbit, that one. The blonde dwarf is his Heart Bond and both of them are just too silly to see it.” The girl cocked her head, still blank faced, but she turned to look at Frodo and then back to Frerin, back and forth, back and forth, as she continued to look the tension slid away, the longer she looked.

“Now, do we have everything?” Bilbo asked when Posy finally looked back at him.

She crossed the room to a shelf and pulled down a small wooden chest, she carried this over to the pack and sat the chest beside it. She then reached into the blanket box under the window and pulled out a doll and a small calico bag. This joined the chest and the pack and Posy turned to face Bilbo again.

“Alright then, I’ll turn around and you get changed, dear. Clean unders and… No, cancel that. Pick out a change of clothes, clean unders, trousers, shirt and vest. Good girl. Now down to the bathroom, wash up and get changed, please.”

Bilbo expected the girl to move just as she had each time, he’d asked her to fetch something, but she didn’t, not this time. This time, she picked up the requested clothes, crossed to his side and took his hand, she pulled until he moved with her, out the bedroom door and into the hallway. She started down the hall, but stopped when she saw Fíli and Kíli in the parlour.

“Posy, this is Fíli and his brother Kíli. We’ll be travelling with them and their uncle, my dear. They’re good boys and they’re very glad you’re joining us, they miss their mother, they’re accustomed to having a female around and now, suddenly they’re in a group of all males.” As Bilbo said each name, the lads bowed and smiled gently at the lass.

Posy looked at them, one at a time, for a few seconds each, then turned back to Bilbo and again pulled his hand.

“Of course, dear. Be back soon, lads. Posy wants to wash up and get changed, then we’ll be away.”

“Of course, Master Baggins.” Kíli spoke soothingly.

“Take your time, Miss Posy.” Fíli added in a quiet tone.

“Thank you, lads.” Bilbo replied as Posy subtly dragged him to the bathroom.

Once in the room, she ran a bath and then looked at Bilbo.

“Right, then. I’ll just turn around and you get washed up, alright?”

Oh, heavens. He’d never been in the bathroom with a female before, not since he was a fauntling, he had no idea if he should offer to help her or just ignore her until she was ready. He figured if she wanted his attention, she’d let him know, **_somehow_** , just as she had let him know when she wanted him to come with her to the bathroom. Thank Yavanna, that hobbits didn’t begin to mature, physically, until 30-ish and that with Posy still a few years away from that onerous time, they wouldn’t have to worry about female issues while travelling. He distractedly listened as fabric rustled and water splashed, he’d be a lot more embarrassed about the situation, if he thought about it too much.

Less than five minutes after entering the bathroom, Posy came to his side and took his hand again. She dragged him back to the bedroom and picked up the doll, the calico bag and the chest and waited. Bilbo picked up the pack and looked at the tiny girl.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else you want to bring with you?” He didn’t get an answer, but then he didn’t really expect one. “Alright, then. Shall we join the others, then?”

Posy tucked the chest under one arm and held the doll and the bag with that hand, crossing the room to take Bilbo’s hand again, she lead him from the room and back to the parlour and the lads.

“Master Baggins, Miss Posy.” The girl looked at each dwarf making eye contact, but giving no other reaction to their greeting.

“Fíli? Would you be a dear and carry this, please?” Bilbo hefted Posy’s pack and Fíli came forward quietly to take it from him.

“Of course, Master Baggins.” He said.

“Miss Posy? May I carry you bag and chest, for you?” Kíli asked, keeping his voice calm and quiet. Posy looked at him, then up at Bilbo, before surrendering the bag and chest, but the doll stayed in her hand.

“Thank you, Kíli.” Bilbo smiled at the dwarf. “Right, then. Let’s get a move on shall we? Fíli, Kíli, back to the ponies, please.”

The lads nodded and with a small bow to Mother Maggot and Daisy, they hurried back outside, knowing that Bilbo would follow them. Posy tensed as they crossed the yard, but didn’t stop and she didn’t release Bilbo’s hand. As they reached the ponies, she hesitated, at least until she saw Fíli step up to Thorin and the two touched foreheads gently, they held this position for a couple of seconds before Fíli stepped over to Frerin and did the same with him, then it was Kíli’s turn. She watched as Bilbo smiled sweetly at the image of Thorin, his brother and their nephews, such a gentle, heart-warming display of affection, but more importantly it was also a casually relaxed one.

“Fíli, Kíli, can you tie those to Pebble’s saddle please? Right at the front, if possible. Now, Posy, dear. Would you rather ride in front of me or sit behind me?”

Her reaction was not what he expected. Neither he or anyone else there. She let go of his hand and crossed to stand in front of Thorin, she reached up and gently tugged on his cloak, when he knelt down for her, she touched her forehead to his, just as Fíli and Kíli had, she then stepped back and slid around until she stood almost behind the dwarf. Bilbo could hear Fíli and Kíli, trying to keep their giggles under control, Bilbo didn’t envy them, the look on Thorin’s face was enough to make anyone giggle and he was having a hard time keeping his own under wraps.

“That’s decided, then. Shall we head out? I don’t know about you, Master Oakenshield, but I’d like to set up camp before dark… Oh, stars. I forgot camp gear for Posy. We’ll need-”

“We’ve taken care of the that, for you, Master Baggins.” Bounder Alder said. “Master Oakenshield and I discussed the matter and you’ll be taking my Rohirrim pony, Lily, along with her saddle and boundary duties pack. That’s got a bedroll, a camp cooking kit, a ground cloth, an oilskin cloak and a pair of saddle bags. Farmer Bracken Maggott has added a significant pouch of gold and he’ll reimburse the Bounders for Lily and her gear. No, don’t argue. Farmer Maggott will be disposing of Mister Maggott’s property and as such, what he’s outlaying today, will only be a portion of what he will gain. Oh and there’s one last thing I need to ask, Master Baggins? Would you like us to keep the Peachum smial or dispose of it, the funds would, of course, go to you, to be held in trust for Posy.”

“Sell it. There’s too many bad memories attached to it and not enough good ones, I’d say. Send the funds to the Thain, just be sure to tell him why. And thank you for the pony, I don’t know whether we’ll ever convince Posy to ride her, but at the least, the option is there.” Bilbo replied.

“No worries, Master Baggins. You lot just look after Miss Posy, please.” The Bounder waved them off.

“We will do our very best, Bounder Alder.” Thorin responded in an almost formal tone, completely at odds with his appearance. He sat as per usual on his pony, but peeking out from behind him was a mass of curly white-blonde hair, a pair of huge green eyes and two large, fuzzy hobbit feet. Bilbo could still hear Frerin, Fíli and Kíli snickering quietly, even Óin looked to be struggling with his amusement. The only thing stopping Bilbo from doing the same was those wide green eyes were watching him so closely, to make sure she was doing the right thing.

“Master Baggins? You know the way, would you be so good as to lead us to the encampment area? I would like some dinner soon and I can hear my brother’s stomach protesting it’s empty state from here.”

With that Thorin edged his black pony around the standing hobbits and moved back into the middle of the road. Bilbo nudged Pebble out and around him and let the pony stretch out into a fast walking stride. It was another mile to the camp area and if they didn’t let the ponies out of a walk, it would take them at least another fifteen minutes, before they could hope to be sitting down to dinner.

He hoped Bombur had something on the fire, he was hungry.

 

 

Imhil astû ithrig–zun zegar? = Do you carry your blades?

Kun, Fíli, e imhil. Ins hikhthuzul. = Yes, Fíli, I do. As always.


	13. Dwarrow and Posy-dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posy joins the Company  
> Emotions run high  
> Posy learns about shape-shifting hobbits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alexiaSheElf the drawing is for you.
> 
> edits - 26-Aug

The sun was just touching the horizon when Bilbo lead the small group off the road and onto a track leading south. Less than a hundred yards and the track opened out into a wide cleared area, with a number of pony pens and a few free-standing shelters. Bilbo saw the rest of their group at the other end of the clearing, huddled around a fire. Even from this distance, the emotion could be seen, in every line in every face, in tension in every muscle.

Dwalin had obviously told them what Thorin had told him about Posy, the reactions would have been subdued, as young Mace was sitting on Gloín’s shoulders as the dwarf helped Merry and Bifur with the ponies.

“Master Baggins? Would you wait a moment, please?” Thorin called, when he was about twenty-odd yards from the pony pens. “You lads go ahead.” He directed the others.

“What’s up, Thorin?” Bilbo dropped the formality for the moment, they were in a clearing, large enough that no one, no one but Posy that is, could overhear them.

“I’m wondering how to introduce Miss Posy to the Company and the Nas. What are your thoughts, Bilbo? I don’t want her to be upset, but none of the Company are going to be happy about **_why_** she’s with us and I don’t want her to think that means that we don’t **_want_** her with us.” Thorin asked, speaking quietly.

“Hmm…” Bilbo hummed, thinking. “Posy, dear?” A small face framed by wild blonde hair, appeared around Thorin’s shoulder. “Did you hear what Thorin said?” The girl just continued to look at Bilbo, he took that for agreement. “Dwarrow are very protective of their womenfolk and their children. That’s why everyone over there looks like they’d like to rip someone apart. Someone hurt a girl-child, that is you, and they’re not happy about it, it’s not something that any dwarf will be happy about. Look at them, dear. Do you see what I mean?” The girl leant further around Thorin, she turned to look at the figures huddled together, she looked at them steadily for nearly a minute before turning back to Bilbo.

“You’re not going to be afraid of someone that wants to protect you, are you, dear?” The girl made no reply, but neither did she tense. “No, I didn’t think so. Shall we go over and get something to eat?” Posy blinked and pushed herself back away from Thorin, she swung a leg around behind him and slid down the side of the dark grey mare. Stopping at Pebble’s side, Posy waited as Bilbo hastily dismounted, she then took his hand and followed him, as he walked Pebble over to Merry.

The ponies all nickered at Posy, nosing at her hands and arms, with Sam’s Blossom lipping at her hair, at least until Merry shooed them away.

“Get off, ya nosy beasts, leave Posy be.” He muttered.

“Posy, dear, this is Merry, he’s our pony wrangler, as well as being one of Frodo’s cousins. He and Pippin insisted on travelling with Frodo and I, as well as Frodo’s friend, Samwise. Merry, would you see to our ponies, please? The new pony is for Posy, if she wants to ride by herself, it’s a Bounder Pony and her name is Lily. However, I think it’s safe to say, that Posy will ride with either Thorin or I, for the time being. We’ll look at spreading our packs around to take that into account, a little later. For now, I’d like to get a seat and something to eat.”

“No worries, Bilbo, Bifur and Gloín are helping me, we’re almost done, here. There’s only your ponies left to do, so we’ll be there in just few minutes. Miss Posy? I’ll bring your bags over when I’m finished here. Is that alright?”

Posy blinked at him and looked to Bilbo to answer for her.

“That will be fine, Merry, thank you.”

Bilbo answered as he and Posy went to join the others at the fire, the girl dragging him over to Fíli and Kíli, pushing them apart and sitting between them, pulling Bilbo down after her. Kíli smothered a giggle at the sight of Bilbo being dragged by the small she-hobbit. Bilbo couldn’t have cared less, at how silly he looked, he was in full ‘Uncle Attitude’, as Frodo called it. He nudged the two young dwarf-princes until there was room for him between his Bonded and Posy, his ward. Bombur and Bofur brought them bowls of fragrant stew.

“Rabbit, Bombur?” He asked.

“Aye, Master Baggins. Pippin and Ori went hunting while the rest of us set up camp for the night. We weren’t sure what Miss Posy likes to eat so, I’ve got two dishes here, a hearty rabbit stew or a light chicken stew. I’ve also set some beans aside to soften, for dinner tomorrow night. Oh and Nori and Balin are hoping we’ve the ingredients for you to make that fabulous breakfast bread, like we had the morning we left Hobbiton.”

“Ah, Bombur, that’s the beauty of breakfast bread, as long as we have the basics, flour, herbs, cheese and bacon, anything else can be added to it… so, I’m sure we do.” A small cheer went through the group. “Now, gentlemen? I’d like to introduce you to Miss Posy Peachum. For the present, she’s my ward and as such will be travelling with us. Posy, dear? From Kíli’s right, we have Master Dwalin and his brother Balin. Next are three brothers, Ori, then Dori and Nori. Gloín is just joining us, along with Bifur and Merry. Next is Frerin and Frodo, then Samwise. Bombur is cooking still and Bofur is handing out the bowls, he’s just handed one to Gloín’s brother Óin, Óin’s our healer by the way. Pippin is next and he’s beside Thorin. And on either side of you and I are Fíli and Kíli.”

“And me, Mister Baggins. Don’t forget me.” Young Mace spoke up.

“But Posy already knows you, Mace. And you’d best be heading off home or Mother Maggott’s going to be looking for you and you don’t want that, do you?” Bilbo replied.

“No, sir, I don’t.” The lad came around the fire to stand in front of Bilbo and Posy, he held out a small branch laden with cherry blossoms. “Miss Posy, I hope you feel better soon… can I... can I give you a hug?” The lad’s bottom lip trembled.

Posy didn’t wait for Bilbo to ask her or answer for her, she handed him her bowl and reached out to Mace, pulling him into her lap, the lad’s face crumpled and he began to cry. The she-hobbit held him, she began rocking and crying herself, so Bilbo set both their bowls down and gathered the two of them and pulled them as close as he could. Within seconds, he felt both Fíli and Kíli pressing close, a quick glance showing the two dwarrow nearly as upset as the two young hobbits. He lifted an arm and Kíli slid under it, he lifted the other arm and Fíli slid under that, the two dwarrow gently curling around the pair of hobbits already in his arms.

A warm hand descended on Bilbo’s shoulder, gentle and strong, he looked to his left and saw the supportive expression on Thorin’s face. So different time.

“Want me to take the lads?” He asked in a soft low voice, little more than a whisper, but Bilbo felt how both Fíli and Kíli clung to him, so he shook his head.

“No, Thorin, leave them be. They’re fine, just fine.” He crooned to the armful of younglings he had. He felt so strong right then, being able to provide comfort and caring made him feel strong and so very warm inside.

“Alright.” Thorin responded.

A few minutes passed and while the tears had lessened, the clinging hadn’t, that was fine with Bilbo, he was comfortable with his arms around his Bonded dwarf and a lap full of little ones. Eventually, he knew it would have to end, though, and end it did.

“Master Baggins?” Thorin’s voice was still low but not as quiet, this time. “Mother Maggott is here… I think, to collect Mace.”

“Indeed I am, Master Oakenshield. Oh dear, I’m sorry about this, he’s always been an emotional lad.” She said when she saw where the lad was.

“No, Mother Maggot, don’t apologise. Sensitive is not a bad thing and don’t ever let anyone tell him it is.”

As Bilbo responded, he saw Mother Maggott’s eyes widen in surprise, at the same time he felt a gust of warm air on his neck. As he turned to look over his shoulder, his eyes flicked over Frodo, the hobbit looked even more startled than Mother Maggot. Turning his head further, he saw the muzzle of a dog. Looking the other way he was a second muzzle. Two of Farmer and Mother Maggott’s massive dogs sat behind him, both looked at him as if he were the best thing they’d ever seen. Like a hobbit presented with a glimpse of Yavanna’s fields or a dwarf being shown Mahal’s forge, the dogs looked at Bilbo like he was all their dreams come true.

“Oh, dear.” Mother Maggot sighed. “Snookums? Sweetpea? Come.” Nothing. “Snookums. Come!” Again there was no response. “Snookums!” The dog huffed but didn’t move. “I’m sorry, Master Baggins.” Mother Maggott sighed.

“Not at all. Snookums? Sweetpea? Go.” The two dogs huffed and slowly got to their feet, they crossed to stand beside Mother Maggott, looking at Bilbo like he’d taken their favourite chew-toy away from them. Beside him, Thorin smothered a hasty snicker.

“Good dogs.” Mother Maggott petted both heads and both animals heaved a sigh, still looking at Bilbo. “Mace? We need to go, now, lad. Come here, son.”

Reluctantly Mace sat up and with a final hug to Posy, the youngster stood, he crossed to his mother and leant into her. She draped her arm around him and sighed.

“Master Baggins? I’d like to say thank you. Thank you for taking Posy, thank you for not judging her, thank you for caring.”

“Oh now, that’s not something to thank me for. Leaving Posy-dear here, was not really something we considered. Certainly not once we knew what had happened.” Posy sniffled and snuggled closer into his lap, with Fíli and Kíli bracketing her on each side, there wasn’t a lot of room to move. “As you can see, she’s quite comfortable with us, now.”

“Mistress Maggott?” Thorin spoke up. “I would like you to know that dwarrow value our children and womenfolk greatly, they are our treasures, our living treasures. We respect them, we cherish them, those of us lucky enough to have either of them in our lives, consider ourselves blessed by the Valar. This child has known heartache and sadness, known violence and pain. She’s been through so much, we will do whatever we can to help her. You have my word.” Thorin said no more than this, but in his mind, he thought what he really felt. ‘ _And I’ll be damned if she’s ever going to have cause to regret turning to me for safety.’_

“Thank you, Master Oakenshield, it’s… it’s a relief to hear that. Master Baggins? Would you let us know how Posy gets on? You can write to us, at ‘Bamfurlong’, at Marish in the Eastfarthing. I know that Mace, here will miss her badly, but with Balsam dead, we won’t be keeping his farm, so there’ll be no reason for us to come to Whitfurrows often. Knowing that she’s recovered will be a comfort, Master Baggins. If you’ll pardon us, my lad here and I have a walk back to the village and we’d best get going, it’ll be full dark before long.” Without waiting for an answer the farmer’s wife took her son’s hand and lead him back towards the East Road and the village.

“Bilbo?” Asked Merry. “Will you tell us what happened? Was Mace right? Did-”

“Stop. Yes, I’ll tell you, but not yet. Not until Posy is asleep, she doesn’t need to hear what was said, not yet. When she’s older and in a better place, I’ll tell her. But for now…? No. For now, eat your dinner and get settled for the night, Merry.” Bilbo answered.

“But what if the man that-” Ori started.

“He can’t. He can’t hurt anyone ever again, the Master of Buckland has seen to that. Don’t fret, Ori. There will be no retaliation.” Surprisingly it was Thorin that sought to allay the fears of the young scribe.

While Thorin and the Company talked, Bilbo gently nudged Fíli and Kíli to sit up, so he could accept fresh bowls of stew from Bombur. He continued to cuddle the little hobbit lass, but it took a bit of rearranging of bodies, arms and bowls, before they could eat.

The dwarrow looked at the four of them in slight puzzlement, but the other hobbits saw a fairly common sight in the Shire, when there were faunts around. Bilbo sat with Fíli and Kíli one on each side of him, but Kíli was sitting level with Bilbo’s knees and both dwarrow had turned to face the older hobbit, with Posy sat snuggled into Bilbo’s chest facing Fíli. The bowls of stew were now being held by the two brothers, Fíli holding Posy’s and Kíli holding Bilbo’s, Bilbo gently bullied Posy until she finished half her bowl and had a piece of apple to go with it, she lay back against him, falling asleep quickly. Bilbo continued to eat his stew, whacking Fíli’s fingers with a spoon, when he tried to pick bits of meat out of a bowl with his fingers, the hobbit shared the remains of the second bowl with the dwarrow nestled on each side of him. It caused Thorin to chuckle at the sight of a hobbit feeding his grown nephews stew by the spoonful.

When there was nothing left in either bowl, Bombur came and collected them and puttered off to clean them, already planning breakfast and something cold for lunch. As the round dwarf passed by some of the others, Bilbo’s attention was caught by Ori, the young scribe had his journal out and was sketching something with a pencil, given the way he kept glancing at Bilbo’s little group, the hobbit thought is safe to assume, they were the subject matter. Merry casually looked over the scribe’s shoulder and smiled at the image, Bilbo, a sleeping Posy on his lap, Fíli holding a bowl, while Bilbo held a spoon in front of Kíli’s open mouth.

Once he was certain that Posy was truly asleep, Bilbo called the Company to the fire and told them what the Bounder and healer had said. The reactions were fairly much what he’d expected, the dwarrow were ready to fight for Posy’s honour and the hobbits were distressed about the execution, not that they weren’t angry about the attack but that the Master had been forced to execute someone nearly overrode the anger. Of all those present, the two most angry were Gloín and surprisingly, Sam. It wasn’t until Frodo reminded him that both of these were fathers with daughters that Bilbo understood their satisfaction at Balsam Maggott’s death.

Little more was decided that night, the only thing of importance was that Merry and Sam both volunteered to guard Posy. If the company got into a fight situation, Merry and Sam would take Posy and the ponies and get them out of the dangerous area. Bilbo and the Nas had already decided that when they reached the Trollshaws and the burnt-out cottage, that Merry and, initially Pippin but now Sam, would take the ponies and their supplies across the ford of Bruinen and in Rivendell’s front gates. Now that they had Posy with them, Merry suggested as a precaution that he and Sam, take Posy and the ponies away, he reasoned that, the ponies looked to him as their handler and as an owl Sam could lead them in the dark if needed.

After that hobbits and dwarrow tossed bedrolls around and things got quiet again. Bilbo offered to take first watch, he said it was unlikely he’d get much sleep that night, that every time Posy twitched, he’d wake up. Once Bilbo had done his shift, he picked up a twig and with a gentle underarm toss, he lobbed it at Gloín, the redheaded dwarf snorted and sat up, rubbing his face, he in turn would wake Nori for the last shift.

 

Bilbo had remembered how dreadful Thorin and Fíli were in the mornings and had suggested, much to Dwalin’s amusement, that whoever had the last shift, wake Thorin and Fíli about an hour before they woke everyone else. Dwalin and Kíli were still grinning at the disgruntled expression on Thorin’s face as they crossed the Brandywine river the next day.

The Company’s leader was glaring daggers at both his nephews, they had made no effort to hide their amusement at the image of Thorin with Posy clinging to his cloak as they rode across the river. The bridge guards smiled sadly and shook their heads as Bilbo halted beside them, their reaction made it clear that they knew of the incident and of why Posy was travelling with them. He tossed each of the three guards a silver coin and asked if there was any freshly killed game available, the head guard went into the guardhouse and returned with a brace of pheasants, a brace of rabbits and a haunch of pork, he offered them and Bilbo happily paid a few more coins. A few miles later they passed a Bounder who informed them that Gandalf had asked the Bounders to pass along a message that the wizard would meet them at the edge of the Chetwood.

They stopped each night, once each side of the Old Forest and a third, just a few miles from Bree itself, on the banks of the Bree-fields Creek, each time in fields a farmer was happy to accept a coin or two in exchange for their use, They’d pushed as hard as they could each day, rising early, eating on the move and stopping fairly late. Both Thorin and Bilbo really wanted to get past Bree. Thorin because he disliked the looks they were garnering from those they passed and Bilbo because he and the Nas hadn’t shifted into their other forms since they’d left Bag End, there’d just been too many hobbits around and also because Bilbo had yet to explain to Posy that the Nas weren’t like the average hobbits of the Shire.

Sighting Gandalf’s big chestnut horse, Frodo wasn’t the only one to sigh in relief. They’d camp here for the night even though it wasn’t much past midday, Gloín, Bofur, Nori and Sam had paused in Bree to go to the markets and would have to re-join them later in the day. Gloín and Bofur were shopping for supplies, Nori sussing out any rumours, particularly about them or Posy, and Sam had a list of things from Bilbo to hunt up for hobbit-lass. Leaving her in Rivendell was going to be hard, Bilbo knew and he wanted some hobbit-y things to comfort her once they left.

She was an odd child, she never spoke, she didn’t make eye contact with anyone other than Bilbo, Fíli and Kíli, she didn’t touch anyone other than those three and Thorin, she wouldn’t ride with anyone but Thorin and they had yet to try and get her to ride by herself. She walked when Bilbo or Thorin walked, she did whatever Bilbo asked her to, she looked at everything with huge wide eyes, but she never spoke. She would bath when told, eat when handed a bowl, she would brush ponies, collect firewood, but she never spoke. Thorin and Bilbo conferred often and they agreed, she needed help, but what type of help, they had no idea.

With Gandalf’s horse in the clearing, but not sign of the wizard, Thorin took charge of the camp, he set Bifur, Ori, Fíli and Kíli to see to the ponies, while Merry, Pippin, Frerin and Frodo were sent to see if they could catch some dinner and for the hobbits to shift. Bombur, Balin, Óin and Dori were tasked with getting a fire going and setting out a camp area, Dwalin and Thorin would see to firewood and Bilbo and Posy would go hunting for wild foods. Bilbo had pointed out mushrooms and tubers and fruit-bearing trees, so they were taking baskets for gathering.

They were just on the edge of the clearing, picking wild apples and plums, when a crunching in the undergrowth could be heard, it signalled the approach of something big, something that was making no effort to hide it’s movements. Posy dropped her basket and scurried over to Bilbo, hiding behind him, or trying to anyway, it was the first time she’d had an honest reaction and while Bilbo was saddened that it was fear, it also cheered him that she **_could_** react.

The crunching came closer and suddenly there was Gandalf, the relief was enough for Bilbo to scold him.

“Gandalf Greyhame. Stars in the sky! You gave us a fright. Don’t **_do_** that!” He sighed, gustily. “Just where have you been? You’ve left that poor horse of yours with no water in the heat of the day, you’re lucky we turned up when we did. The poor beast was perishing of thirst.”

Gandalf stopped with a start, then laughed.

“Bilbo Baggins. I’ve not seen you for days and you start fussing within seconds of meeting up.” He paused, suddenly. Posy had heard Bilbo scolding someone, just like he did with the Company, so she peeked around Bilbo’s shoulder to see who it was. “Bilbo? What in all that’s holy is **_that!?_** ”

“This is Posy-dear, Gandalf. Posy-dear, this is Gandalf the Grey, he’s a wizard and will be travelling with us… I think… Gandalf are you staying with us for a bit or are you going haring off on your own, again?”

“Well, I had planned to stay with you until after-” the wizard answered distractedly, before stopping. “ ** _What_** is a Posy-dear and **_why_** do you have one?”

“Posy-dear is a hobbit, Gandalf, surely you can see that? As to why I have her? It’s bit brutal to talk about, but someone hurt her, the Bounders and healers want her to go to Rivendell for healing, I’ll explain more later. But the real reason, why we couldn’t leave her? Posy-dear, come stand beside me.” The lass did as Bilbo asked, but kept a tight grip on his coat, just in case. “Now, Gandalf. Look at her. Look at her colouring.”

The wizard looked, a frown on his face, he peered at her from her delicate fuzzy feet, her slender build, her heart-shaped face with glorious green eyes, to her masses and masses of platinum-blonde curls. Gandalf’s eyes widened comically.

“She’s… she’s…” He stuttered.

“Yes, she is.” Bilbo agreed.

“Oh, dear.” Gandalf sighed and Bilbo grinned. “Hobbits.” The wizard muttered under his breath.

 

When Frerin and the Nas returned, Bilbo conferred quickly with them, he felt the need to shift, but unless they told Posy of their Valar-Gifts, he saw no way that could happen as often as needed, the hobbits agreed she should be told, if they ran into trouble, she would find out anyway, so best tell her without the need for panic.

After a dinner of roasted pheasant and boar, Bilbo gently deposited Posy in Fíli’s lap.

“Posy-dear? There’s something we need to tell you.” The girl looked at him, her face as blank as always. “There’s no easy way to say this. I… I’m not… not an… average hobbit.” He started.

“Bilbo… Enough with the delays. Posy? Bilbo, Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin are Restored. The Valar have brought them here, from a different time. They’ve been brought back to join our quest to reclaim Erebor and to see that happen, the Valar gave them Gifts. The ability to change their shapes, to change into animals.” Thorin butted in when it was clear that Bilbo didn’t know what to say or how to say it. “They each have a totem animal, as well as a common shift…. Pippin? Would you shift into your totem shift, please?”

Pippin looked at Bilbo, who sighed and nodded.

“Go ahead, Pippin.” The older hobbit encouraged.

Pippin shrugged and began to shift, the air around beginning that twisting shimmer that was, somehow, a part of the process. When the air settled, the pine marten shook itself and chittered, before running over to climb up Ori’s leg, sitting up on the dwarf’s lap and looking expectantly at Thorin. Posy’s eyes were wide as she followed the path of the little creature.

“Merry, you next, please.”

“Right.” Merry said and began his own shift. Once a wolf sat where the hobbit had been, Posy sat forward and again followed the wolf’s progress as it, too, crossed the camp to sit between Ori and Bifur.

“Sam? If you would.”

“Yes, Mister Thorin.” The always polite gardener replied. He got up from his seat and crossed to a large rock, he climbed up onto the rock and with a small smile, shifted into his feathered self. Posy blinked at him a few times, before turning to look at Frodo.

“I think that means it’s your turn, Frodo.” Frerin grinned.

“You think?” Frodo answered, sarcastically. But he, too, let himself slide into his bird self, he settled on Frerin’s shoulder, absently running his beak through the dwarf’s hair. Posy eyes lit up and her lips twitched, it was a real reaction, the first positive reaction any of them had seen her make.

“Bilbo. Your turn, now.” Thorin said at last.

“Hmmf.”

Bilbo huffed as for the first time in a week he let the scald bring out his lynx. Posy watched as the hobbit that had tended her and fed her and saw to her every need since the ugly dark hobbit had taken away her Papa away, the golden hobbit that brought light and warmth back into her world changed into a huge gold and black cat. She blinked and a smile pulled itself out of her memory, she pushed up out of Fíli’s lap and delicately stepped over legs until she stood in front of Bilbo. These hobbits weren’t like the other hobbits of the Shire, they weren’t plain, simple people of the land. These hobbits were like nothing the Shire had seen before, they could go from looking like the hobbits she had grown up surrounded by, to animal and not just the one animal either. Five hobbits that changed into five different animals.

“Posy?” For the first time, she turned and made eye contact with Thorin’s. “These five shapes aren’t the only shapes they can change into. They also have a sixth shape, one that all of them change into. It’s big and looks scary, but you know that Bilbo wouldn’t hurt you and you know, neither would any of us here. You know that, Posy, don’t you?” The child looked at him, turned back to Bilbo and lifted a hand and ran one finger down the edge of the lynx’s ruff, before she turned and crossed back to Thorin. She stopped in front of him and turned back to face the others.

“Pippin, you first, again.” Thorin directed.

Pip slithered down off Ori’s lap, he scampered across to a gap in the circle of dwarrow, here he stopped and facing the fire began the change, again. Without asking the wolf moved to stand beside the massive warg and he, too, shifted into another huge black warg.

“Sam? Frodo? Would you join them?” Thorin asked.

The owl fluttered down from it’s perch on the rock and with another shimmer, a third warg stood between the dwarrow, the hawk flew over and landed on the last warg, before dropping to the ground between the first and last wargs, the air around the bird twisted and slowly the change grew and there were four very large, very black wargs.

Posy didn’t wait for Thorin to tell Bilbo it was his turn, she crossed to stand in front of the lynx and tilted her head curiously. The lynx shook itself and the air began that twisting shimmering thing again and another warg appeared. Posy looked up… and up… and up, until she finally reached the eyes of the beast. She knew those eyes, they belonged to her golden hobbit.

Her golden hobbit was a golden cat and a black warg. The silly hobbit was a black and grey hawk, as well as a black warg. The fussy hobbit was a owl and a black warg. The funny hobbit was a big weasel-like critter and a black warg. The tall hobbit was a wolf and a black warg.

Her golden hobbit was a golden cat and a black warg.

Her golden hobbit was a big golden cat and a big black warg.

Her golden hobbit was a very big golden cat and a very big black warg.

But he was still her golden hobbit. The silly hobbit was still the silly hobbit, the fussy hobbit was still the fussy hobbit, the funny hobbit was still the funny hobbit and the tall hobbit was still the tall hobbit.

They might be able to change their shapes, but they were still her hobbits. But they were definitely not like the hobbits of the Shire, they were not like the ugly hobbit that took her Papa away. Her golden hobbit had brought warmth and light into her dark world, he drove the bad dreams away and he’d take her away from the darkness. She had not fear of her golden hobbit, none at all. If he didn’t fear the other hobbits, in the hobbit-shapes or the warg-shapes, why should she?

She stepped closer and reached out to touch her golden hobbit’s black warg-leg, the skin twitched and the heavy head leant down and tilted so the golden hobbit-in-warg-shape could look at her as she wrapped her arms around a thick leg and sat on a stool-sized paw.

“Well, Thorin.” Said Gandalf. “I don’t think that shape-shifting hobbits are going to be a problem for Bilbo’s Posy-dear.”


	14. Hobbits aren't helpless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A burnt-out farmstead.  
> A knife, a spider and stunned dwarrow.  
> Two troll caves.  
> A precious cargo  
> Bombur and Pippin are hurt. And treated.  
> A solution to carrying gear.  
> A question is asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Note: I am NOT a chiropractor. BUT this is how it feels from my point of view, when the Chiro puts MY ribs back in place.  
> AND it's a good visual for a giggle, too.  
> The blade Frerin picks up is designed by Atohas and you can view their work at http://atohas.deviantart.com
> 
> edits 21-Aug

Over the following weeks, as they travelled out of the Bree-lands, through the Lone-lands and into the Trollshaws, Posy-dear opened up a little. She still made no attempt to speak, but by the time Bilbo saw a familiar burnt-out cottage, the she-hobbit would smile and would often be found riding, besides behind Thorin, with or on Fíli, Kíli, Merry, Sam or Bilbo.

A few days after Bree, Posy-dear was restless and fidgety, so Bilbo called Pippin over and told him to 'shift small', the phrase they used when talking of their non-warg shifts, he then plopped the pine marten around Posy-dear’s shoulders and told her not to drop Pippin. A squirmy, bouncy, sneaky Pippin kept her occupied for the rest of the afternoon. It was a entertaining sight for all but Merry, who sulked because he wanted to play with Posy-dear, too. Watching him pout was too much for Thorin, who suggested that now might be a good time to familiarize her with the warg-shapes, so Merry shifted into his black warg and Thorin picked up Posy-dear (and her Pippin collar) and lifted her up onto the back of the crouching warg. At first Posy-dear froze, this was a lot higher than a pony, but Pippin slithered off her shoulder and down onto the neck of the warg, he scampered around, pushing his way through the bristly mane, again and again, until Posy-dear began to giggle.

Her husky laughter was almost sensual, but completely innocent at the same time. Thorin told Dwalin that it made him think of the joy of innocent pleasures, like sun after rain, like the warm of a fire after a cold wind, like the song of a stone carved by a Master Carver. Dwalin was reminded of the wind in the leaves of trees, of burble of a stream. Frodo said it made him think of spring’s sun on his face or the touch of new grass under foot. All of the Company had a few things that Posy-dear’s laugh made them think of, with fondness.

Gandalf was the one to struggle with her presence the most. She made him think about things, things he wasn’t ready to face just yet, things that still caused him pain. But there was no way that could be blamed on the child, she was a child. She ran, danced, played and laughed.

But she never spoke.

 

It was mid-afternoon when the ruins of a farmer’s cottage emerged from the trees and Bilbo knew exactly where they were and what would happen there. He called Thorin and Gandalf and told them he needed to speak with them, before asking Fíli and Kíli to take Posy-dear looking for firewood, but to not go far from the camp, it wasn’t safe here. Both princes blinked when they saw how serious he was when he spoke.

“Should we take our weapons, Bilbo?” Fíli asked, worried.

“Daggers should be enough… in daylight.” He warned.

Both princes strapped a small arsenal to their bodies and as the rest of the Company watched, the hobbits very quickly did the same, which prompted the dwarrow into doing so as well, even if they had no idea why.

“Bilbo? Why did you have the boys arm themselves?” Gandalf asked.

“Gandalf, Thorin? Would you join me please?” he said as he walked away from the camp and over to a group of rock outcrops.

“Bilbo? What is it? Something worries you.” Thorin asked, staying close to the hobbit.

“Just wait a moment, please, Thorin.” Bilbo waited until Gandalf joined them. “Right. This is the first time I’ve done this so be patient, please. This house, here? Gandalf, it was destroyed by trolls. Those same trolls stole our ponies, intending to eat them, we managed to get them back, but it was a dangerous fight and we nearly lost, because we didn’t think as a group. We have two choices here, we can wait for them to take the ponies again. Or we can out think them.”

“Trolls? Bilbo I don’t think-”

“Olórin! Stop! Right now! Do... Not... Doubt... Me... You argued with Thorin and stormed off in a huff. Those trolls hung me by my heels before stuffing us in sacks. It took me ages to get the blasted things to listen, trolls turn to stone in daylight and I knew that dawn wasn’t too far away, so I was playing for time. Thankfully it worked, so… **_don’t… you… ever… doubt… me_** , Gandalf. I lived through this, not **_you_**.” The hobbit snarled, a hint of his warg showing in the timbre of his voice.

“Ah… My apologies, Bilbo. I keep forgetting.”

“Well, don’t. You can’t afford to.” He heaved a sigh. “We could just ride on, but there’s things here we need… and can any of us live with just leaving trolls to kill innocent farmers and travellers? I know I couldn’t. So… we need to think this through. I’ve ideas, but… I’m not a strategist, Thorin, that’s your field.”

“What are your ideas, Bilbo? Tell me exactly what happened, exactly what you remember. Give me something to work with.” Thorin responded.

“Right. Last time? You had Fíli and Kíli watching the ponies… that didn’t work so well, they were too busy arguing about Heart Bonds that they missed a troll take two ponies, I took them dinner and together the three of us found the troll camp, I went in to release the ponies, but I **_wasn’t_** armed and I **_was_** terrified, I tried to take a blade from a troll without them knowing and was caught, not for the blade but because the beast went for his handkerchief and got me instead… Yeah, yeah, [allakh khuzd](stupid%20dwarf), laugh it up, your royal giddiness. I was not prepared last time, not at all. This time is different.” Bilbo reached out and swatted a laughing Thorin, how different indeed, last time he’d been afraid of his shadow, this time, while he was still afraid, it wasn’t the same, this time he was afraid for his family, his Bonded, those he called brother, his nephew and, of course, for Posy-dear.

“Right, sorry… But the visual…?” Thorin got himself under control.

“Later… please. Where was I?... Oh, yes, I got caught and Fíli went for you lot, while Kíli… Oh, stars above… Kíli attacked the trolls, Thorin, all on his own. Eventually they caught one of us and the rest of us surrendered, they stuffed some of us in sacks and put some over the fire, on a spit to roast. I delayed them long enough for Gandalf to split a rock and let the light of dawn turn them to stone.”

“That would work.” Said Gandalf, thinking.

“Yes, it did, but dwarrow with burns can’t concentrate on fighting and tomorrow? Tomorrow, we’ll be found by warg scouts and we’ll need Kíli, Dwalin and Bifur in one piece. Not to mention the others.”

“Ah… yes.” The wizard conceded.

“You said you had ideas, what are they?” Thorin asked a second time.

“I’d like to send Merry and Sam to take Posy-dear and the Rohirrim ponies to Rivendell. Merry and Sam are the least useful in this type of situation and all the ponies look to Merry, so with Sam to guide them, they will be away from the trolls and be across the ford of the Bruinen before the Orcs arrive. That will keep them and our gear safe. If we keep the four mountain/Rohirrim crossbreeds here, the trolls will still take them, but they are hardier than the Rohirrim ponies when it comes to physical shape, so should be better able to withstand the treatment. After that? My ideas are random and I’ve no way of knowing if they can be used.”

“What are they?” Thorin asked again.

“Sam’s got a heap of elven rope. It’s stronger than any other type of rope, we could set a trip line and then tie them up. Or? While they’re distracted we could have Pippin drop a bundle of poisonous herb in their cook pot. Or? Gandalf could make a whizz-popper that’s as bright as the sun and turn them to stone.” Bilbo sighed. “See what I mean. Ideas, but nothing practical.”

“Oh, but, Bilbo… That’s given me ideas. You brilliant hobbit.” Thorin grinned, a wide beaming smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. We’ll need to work it very carefully, but I think we can do it. Let me think on the details and I’ll tell everyone after lunch.

 

The Company gathered around a small fire, Bilbo telling the lads to bear arms, got everyone nervous, so they were huddled close together. Dwalin leant against a tree, on the opposite side of the fire to where Bilbo and Posy-dear were sitting between Thorin and his nephew, the guard captain took the bowl passed to him by Dori and picked up his spoon.

Thunk!

The tree behind him quivered, he turned his head to the right and froze.

He slowly reached up and pulled the dagger out of the tree, a large hairy spider neatly skewered on it’s tip. Dwalin looked at the blade, identified the knife and so it’s owner, he glared across the fire to it’s owner who was staring in shock, as were almost all the dwarrow.

“Did you just-?” he growled, but the blade’s owner held two bowls in his hands, there was no way he could have thrown the dagger. The dwarf wasn’t even looking at Dwalin… no, he was looking at the tiny blonde hobbit-lass sitting beside his brother, his jaw hanging low.

Posy-dear simply picked up her spoon and took a bowl from the dwarf and began to eat her meal… Had **_she_** thrown the dagger?

“How did you do that?” The blade’s owner whispered as he sat down. She grinned at him.

“What was that for?” Dwalin growled.

While the lass still didn’t speak, she did made a hand gesture for a creepy-crawly thing and screwed up her little button nose and shuddered.

“Ah. Thank you… I think.” The guard grunted.

Nori began to chuckle.

“It seems our little bunny has claws after all.” The thief said.

“Oh, Posy’s no bunny. No, not at all. She’s a warg cub and she’s just showing you her fangs.” Frerin laughed, causing a few of the others to join in.

Dwalin made a throwing gesture and then threw the blade underhanded across to it’s owner, who took the blade and made to put it back in it’s customary sheath, when he realised the opposing blade was also missing. The dwarf blinked and looked at Posy-dear closely, after a thorough head-to-tow perusal, he counted another three of his blades strapped to the girl, and that was all that he could see, perhaps there were more, just hidden from sight.

“How many of my blades do you have?” he asked. She only grinned and kept eating.

 

Four hours later, Thorin watched as Merry and Sam rode away with Posy-dear. He hadn’t realised how important the child was, to see her fade into the distance and not call them back was hard. Very hard. But she would be safe and that was the important thing to remember.

Earlier, Nori, Fíli, Kíli and the shifted hobbits had done a scout about and found two caves, one was the trolls' hoard and the other they were using as a sun shelter. With time up their sleeves, Thorin had directed part of his Company to preparing for their endeavour of dealing with the trolls that evening, the rest of them emptied the troll hoard of anything valuable. Bilbo had suggested that some of the elven things be returned to Rivendell and while Thorin was hesitant, he also knew the good impression returning them would make, especially as they intended to leave Posy-dear with Elrond when they left.

It had only taken Bilbo seconds to convince Thorin to keep Orcrist for himself, while he’d given Sting to Frodo. Yes, he could have kept the blade for himself, but with Frodo looking at it with his heart in his eyes, Bilbo found no hardship in passing it along, he did however take a pair of beautifully balanced elven throwing blades. These blades were the right size for hobbit daggers and were clearly made by the same hand that forged Sting and Orcrist. Gandalf had looked askance when Bilbo, with a handkerchief mask tied around his face, handed the wizard Glamdring, but had taken the sword, anyway. Each of the dwarrow, at Bilbo’s request, added a blade from the stash to their arsenal.

“The blades are of elven make.” He said, causing a few groans. “That means, my dear dwarrow, that they will glow blue when Orcs or goblins are nearby.” He paused. “Very handy. Given where we’re going? Very handy indeed.” Fíli and Kíli looked at each other and had one of their rapid wordless conversations, then both reached into the pile and pulled out matching blades, Fíli shoved his into a sheath on his arm, while Kíli slid his into the weaving of his quiver-scabbard’s belt. Thorin watched them and shared a similarly speaking look with **_his_** brother, before they, too, took elven blades. Thorin’s blade obviously was made as a companion blade to Orcrist, as it was a miniature replica of the sword and he used the clip on the back of it’s sheath to attach it to the sword’s scabbard belt. Frerin chose a long dagger far more delicate and typically elven, the pommel of it hooked over on itself and only the tip of the blade went into a sheath, a shaped clasp all that held the blade in place.

After that Dwalin chose blades and handed them out willy-nilly, he didn’t care who got what, if the hobbit said take a blade, they were taking a blade. When he finished there were only three blades left and for some reason, he picked out one up, it was likely a throwing blade, small, delicate and fragile looking. Without knowing why he tucked it into the buckle of his belt.

They tied bundles of tools and swords, pouches of gems and jewellery, some of the large items were just wrapped in ground clothes and when they tied these to the ponies, the cave had a very bare look to it. The only thing they kept for themselves, beside the blades, were the coins, they would quite possibly need the extra money, to get where they needed to go. Watching the ponies leave with their precious cargo of weapons, gems, jewellery and Posy-dear wasn’t easy, but no one wanted her in the sort of danger they were facing, tonight.

 

The sun had set and darkness had blanketed the landscape, when a screech of a hawk split the night. That was the signal that the trolls were out and about, it took them only a few minutes to find the ponies that were well placed to catch their attention. Bilbo, huddled between Fíli and Kíli, watched one troll stroll on past carrying a pony under each arm. They followed the troll at a distance, they knew where they going, but they didn’t want to draw the attention of the beasts.

When the troll dropped Myrtle and Minty into the pen with Daisy and Bungo, that was the signal, that they’d all been waiting for. Now came the incredibly dangerous part for Bilbo. Both Fíli and Kíli hugged him gently and his Heart Bond whispered a soft blessing in his hair.

“[Naibsini Mahal. Binignig nusus, Bilbo](Walk%20with%20Mahal.%20Stay%20safe,%20Bilbo).”

“[Za-e, inrêd mudtu](I%20will,%20dear%20heart).” His whispered back, barely loud enough for the dwarf clutching at him, to hear. He eased out of the prince’s arms and gently guided him to his brother, he stepped back and looked at them, blonde and brunette, gold and ebony, day and night, sword and arrow. They truly were opposites, but like many opposites, they complimented each so well. When Thorin relinquished the throne, Kíli would be the pillar that would support his brother’s crown and Fíli would be the banner that Kíli would fly. Together they would rise, he would see to it.

Bilbo left them standing together, he walked in the path of the troll, as he got closer to their fire, he began to hum, not quietly, though, he was hoping they would hear him coming. And they did

“Ooh, wha’s that?” said one.

“Don’t know? Bill?” said a second.

“Why ya looking a’ me, Bert? I dunno.” Said the third, Bill.

“Oi! What’re you?” said the first troll, pointing at Bilbo.

“Me? I’m a burrahobbit, of course. What are you?” Keep them talking Bilbo.

They blustered and stuttered for a minute or so.

“We’re trolls. Ain’t you never seen a troll before?”

“No. Should I have?”

That stumped them for a few moments, until Bert got curious.

“Wha’s a burrahobbit, then? Can we eats it, Tom?”

“What? Me?” Bilbo asked, spotting Pippin in his pine marten form running through the legs of the trolls.

“Yeah, can we eats it?”

“No. Not edible in the least.”

“Why not?” asked Tom.

“You’ve truly never heard of Burrahobbits? We’re poisonous, deadly to anything larger than ourselves.”

“Oh. Well, why are you here, then?” Tom asked, not noticing Pippin or the rope he’d carried...

“Ah. I’m travelling east and you took my ponies. So, I thought I’d come and see why.”

“We’s ‘ungry. At’s why.” Bert rumbled.

“That’s what I thought. I’m not happy about that. So, there’s only one thing to say. [**_Z_**](Now!) ** _[Û](Now!)!”_**

“Zoo? Zoo, what?” Bill asked.

As the troll spoke Bilbo could see the ropes tightening and with a jerk the trolls were pulled from their feet, within seconds they’d been dragged upside down and hung in the air, not able to do more than swing their arms about and yell insults at the hobbit.

When Bilbo ran from the fire and caught up with Fíli and Kíli, the two princes were leaning against a tree, using it to hold them upright as they laughed, tears running down their faces.

“Alright, you two. What’s so funny?”

But neither prince was in any condition to explain, that was left to a breathless Ori.

“Oh, Bilbo, it was grand.” He gasped, getting his laughter under control. “Pippin went up the trunk of the oak tree and across the branches, to the chestnut tree, Bombur was waiting, standing on a branch as high as he could climb. He tied the rope around his waist and…” the young dwarf smothered his laughter and Bilbo was forced to wait until Ori could speak again.

“He tied the rope around his waist and jumped. Oh, Bilbo is was a sight. Bombur, our round Bombur, leapt from the tree, arms and legs in all directions,… he just… jumped. I thought he was going to splat on the ground, but he didn’t, the weight of the trolls meant he landed, gentle as a feather,… which for Bombur is saying something, he landed in the hole we dug and filled with leaves. Dwalin, Thorin, Bofur and Gloín picked him up, out of the leaves and they ran, still carrying Bombur, down to the elm, there and… and… and they just ran round and round the tree, it wasn’t until they’d done that, that anyone thought to untie poor Bombur. Oh, Mahal, my ribs hurt just from watching and laughing.” The scribe gave up trying to hold the laughter in and fell to the ground, he lay on his side, gasping and laughing.

“Oh, dear.” Bilbo wanted to laugh too, but he could see Bombur coming up the trail the trolls had made, the dwarf’s gait was stilted and stiff legged, obviously something had gone wrong and he hurt. “Bombur? Are you alright? What hurts?” The hobbit fussed.

“Ma back feels wrong, Bilbo.” He whimpered.

“Just stand there, for me.” Bilbo ducked around behind Bombur and ran his fingers down the dwarf’s spine, he stopped at a point midway between the shoulders and the waist, he’d felt a point where the bones didn’t run in quite the right alignment. “Dwalin! Come here.” When the guard reached them, Bilbo spoke again. “Help Bombur down onto the ground. No, no, on his front, please. Good, good. Dwalin stay there.” With that Bilbo took a few steps back and almost like he was taking a run-up, retraced his steps and stepped up onto Bombur’s back. A dull crack was heard by Dwalin, Ori, Fíli and Kíli, causing them all to wince, Bombur groaned and Bilbo continued to move across to Fíli and Kíli on the other side of poor Bombur. Bilbo landed in his Heart Bond’s arms and with a grin to the dwarf, he turned.

“You can get up now, Bombur.”

The rotund dwarf groaned… until he began to move, then he, too, grinned and laughed.

“It’s gone. Ma back feels fine, the pain’s gone.” Bombur nearly danced in relief.

“How’d you learn that?” Dwalin asked.

“My grandfather, the Old Took, fell from a wagon when he was younger and hurt his back, he’d often pop a rib out of place and Elrond taught Mama how to put it back in. Bombur might be a lot bigger than Grandfather, but the same process should’ve worked, if I could provide enough pressure in just the right place. There was no way I could do that just pushing on it, so I went to extremes, a hobbit heel in the right place, with all my weight behind it…” He grinned wildly. “And it worked!” He grabbed his Heart Bond’s hands and spun around in a circle with him, laughing in joy.

“And the trolls are secure, too. Oh Bilbo. You were so brave.” The dwarf prince, grabbed and pulled the hobbit into his arms, he buried his face in that mop of golden curls, as he did, his brother wrapped the two of them in his arms and held on, within seconds there was a group hug with a squishy hobbit centre. It took a while but eventually the dwarrow stepped back, one at a time, until it was just Bilbo and his dwarf.

Bilbo looked around, there were dwarrow missing.

“Where’s Dori, Óin and Bifur?” he asked worriedly.

“Someone’s got to watch the trolls, now don’t they?” Nori informed him.

“So… what do we do now?” Ori asked.

“Now, Ori, my lad.” Bilbo grinned. “We wait for dawn. Bombur, you should walk around for a bit, so, if you, Ori, Balin Frodo and Frerin would go fetch our packs we can all take turns tonight getting some rest while keep an eye on the trolls. Morning will come soon enough and it will be frantic.”

The group split up and Bilbo headed back to the trolls campfire. Before he got there he could hear them yelling, cursing the hobbit. As Bilbo entered the camp, Gandalf entered from the opposite side, he stopped short and shook his head at the sight of the trolls, hanging upside down from a branch, just far enough away from anything, that any time one moved, the three swung gently to and fro.

“Ah, Gandalf, good timing. Can you do something about the volume please? We need some rest and with all that caterwauling, there’s little hope of any, tonight.”

“Master Baggins.” The wizard said. “It would be my pleasure.” The wizard spoke in an obscure language and with a swipe of his staff the three trolls fell silent, in fact they fell motionless, hanging like nothing more than bags of potatoes. Whatever Gandalf had done had knocked the trolls senseless. “There, now, that’s better, isn’t it?”

A few sighs could be heard, particularly from Óin, Bifur and Dori.

“Thank you, Tharkûn.” Dori said, his shoulders slowly lowering in relief.

“Master Dori, you are most welcome. That was irritating.”

Within minutes Frodo and his group of dwarrow had returned, by that time Dwalin, Thorin and Bofur had removed the trolls cauldron from the fire, they’d covered their noses as they’d taken the pot and carted it far enough away that the smell was no longer overpowering. Bombur, Ori and Dori put their pot on the fire and got busy, getting a quick meal together for the Company.

Bilbo looked around but couldn’t see Pippin. Where had the young hobbit got to?

“Pippin? Pip, where are you?” He called, the dwarrow suddenly silent.

A whimpering mewl was heard from the direction of the chestnut tree and Bilbo and Frodo, both hurried over. It was Frodo that found the pine marten-shaped hobbit, he’d caught a foot in the fork of two branches and his weight, negligible as it was in this form, held him trapped. Frodo and Kíli shinnied up the tree and gently freed the young hobbit, carrying him to the ground and back to the troll’s fire. Here Bilbo and Óin checked his leg and foot before letting him slowly, and painfully, shift back into hobbit-shape again. Óin spent a few minutes tending Pip, strapping bandages around his swollen foot and ankle.

“He’ll not be able to walk, come morning, let alone run.” The healer stated bluntly.

“Then, we’ll just have to carry him.” Gloín replied.

“Good thing e’s so light, then.” Bofur grinned, nudging Bombur.

“In our shifted forms, I can carry him for a bit. Maybe not all the way to Rivendell, not in one go, anyway. But for a while, I can.” Frodo suggested.

Frerin solved the issue for them.

“But we can. If Pip can shift back to his pine marten form, we can carry him with no difficulty at all.” He offered as a solution.

“Oh, yes.” Pip chirped. “And if Frodo shifts, too, he can fly or stay with Frerin, he’s not the best distance runner.”

“Hey!” Frodo complained.

“You’re not. If you can’t trust us to tell you the truth, Frodo Baggins, who can you trust? Hmm?”

“Bilbo?” Asked a hesitant Ori.

“Yes, Ori?”

“Where do your clothes go? When you shift, I mean?” The young dwarf asked.

“No idea. Probably the same place our fur and feathers are when we’re in hobbit form. Maybe Irmo knows, but like many things, the Valar didn’t feel the need to tell us the details. Why? What’s running through your mind, Ori Ri?” Bilbo replied.

“Does that also apply to anything you’re carrying. No, not Pippin, but… Would it apply to your pack and gear?” When Bilbo nodded, Ori kept going. “Would it apply to **_our_** packs and gear? If Pippin and Frodo were holding our gear when they shifted, would it go… wherever, too?”

Bilbo and Frodo were unsure and spent a half hour testing the theory. It worked. If they were holding the items off the ground when they shifted, the gear went wherever their clothes went when they shifted. The important bit was that it had no impact of them after they’d shifted. Frodo, in hobbit form, had his arms covered in dwarrow packs, barely able to hold them, he shifted to his hawk-shape and once shifted, his wings were free and he felt as light as he always had when in his bird-form. They talked it over more and came to a working solution. Frodo and Pippin would take the heaviest of the gear they’d kept, then the two would shift small and Pippin would be carried, while Frodo could fly or ride on Frerin's shoulder. Bilbo wouldn’t shift, his lynx didn’t have the endurance to keep up with dwarrow for what could be hours and it was too big to be carried, so he stayed on two legs.

Then there was the inevitable argument, of who’s going to carry Pippin, Kíli was the eventual winner, he was amongst the youngest and as a hunter was likely to have the best endurance. With his foot strapped tight, Pippin found that shifting was possible and not as painful as he'd first thought, Frodo suggested that he either hang on to Kíli’s quiver-scabbard or ride in one of the inside pockets of Kíli’s coat.

Once the discussions were dealt with, a hearty meal and a good night’s rest were in order and quickly the Company settled in for the night. All three hobbits glad that they were not on watch that night, that Gloín, Nori and Dwalin would be guarding them. Frodo and Frerin were still awake talking to Gloín when Bilbo rolled himself in his blankets, as he lay down he saw Ori snuggle into his woolly rug next to Dori, and Kíli and Fíli approaching Thorin and that was the last thing the hobbit knew, until the crackling of the trolls turning to stone woke him.

 

A light breakfast was essential today, and everyone was up early, even Thorin and Fíli looked wide awake for a change. Bilbo was slightly alarmed that he was the focus of three of the Durin princes, this early in the morning, it was unlikely to be a good thing.

“Might we have a word, Master Baggins?” Thorin was standing near the tree-line with his nephews.

“Of course, Thorin.” Bilbo was a little puzzled by the formality, but this was Thorin, after all, he was a master of formality, at unexpected times. Bilbo wandered over to the trio, but Thorin gestured and the four of them stepped into the trees, a few steps and the sounds of the camp were dulled, but the brightness of the dawn provided more than enough light enough to see by.

“Master Baggins.” Thorin began. “My nephew approached me late last night, he wished to notify me that he’d found his [Mudtu Bassul](Heart%20Bond). Due to his position and the fact that he and his brother are my Heirs, he felt it important to tell me of this.”

Bilbo caught his breath, his heart pounding.

Kíli stepped forward, he bowed slightly and spoke.

“Bilbo Baggins, Mahal has graced me with his blessing, He has blessed me with you. My heart sings when you are beside me, your smile lightens my day.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Bilbo, son of Bungo, I would Bind my heart with yours, I would weld my life with yours. Will you permit me to Court you?” Nervousness was written in every line of Kíli’s body, strain clear in his voice.

Bilbo’s heart felt like it would burst from his chest, in joy, his smile grew wide.

“Kíli, son of Víli. You are my [Mudtu Bassul](Heart%20Bond), chosen by Mahal and Yavanna, our souls forged to be the completion of the other. I would be honoured to be Courted by you, Kíli, prince of Erebor.”

Kíli whooped and snatched Bilbo up, spun him around and hugged him tight, while Bilbo laughed at the exuberant display. Thorin and Fíli waited patiently until Bilbo’s feet were on the ground, before they, too, swept him up, the two of them hugging him and grinning from ear to ear. Fíli hugged Kíli, before stepping back, Thorin coming forward to touch foreheads with his younger nephew, before turning to the hobbit.

“Welcome to the family, Bilbo. You said once, that I have called you ‘[imrikh-nadad](Shield-brother)’, in your past. I do not doubt this, but I would rather call you [khuzd-bâhu](Dwarf-Friend)… and [agnât’irakdashat](nephew-in-law).”

Fíli stepped forward again, his smile soft, gentle.

“And I… I would be pleased to call you, ‘[nadad](brother)’, Bilbo.” He grinned widely. “[Amad’s](Mother's) going to love you.”

Bilbo let his smile shine, holding Kíli’s hand, their fingers laced together.

“Will you let me put one of my beads in your hair, Bilbo? I never expected to meet my Heart Bond and have not yet made a Courting Bead, but I would very much like to see a bead, my bead, in your hair. Please.”

“Oh, Kíli. Of course, you can. If you can find enough hair that is.” Bilbo chuckled.

For a few minutes, nothing more was said as Kíli ran his fingers through Bilbo’s hair, deftly separating and twisting the strands into a simple braid, tying it off with one of his hair clasps, forged by his own hand, embossed with the sigil-mark that Thorin designed for him. He admired his handiwork for a few seconds, he turned to his uncle and grinned, opening his mouth to speak.

A crashing noise came from the north, causing the four to retreat to the fire and the rest of the Company. Bilbo sent a brief prayer to Yavanna, that it was Radagast that approached and not the wargs, yet.

When rabbits in harness burst through the underbrush, he sagged at the reprieve, while Gandalf conferred with his friend, Bilbo quickly packed the little he’d kept with him, a blanket and his camp cooking kit, was pretty much it. He’d sent his tulip-leaf armour and pack with the ponies, not wanting to be weighed down when it came time to run. His weapons consisted of the elven sword and bow in the scabbard-quiver – less the pack – and daggers. He was going to end up as bad as Fíli and Nori, if he wasn’t careful, already he carried more than ten blades, who knew how many he would end up with before they reached Erebor.

A howl tore the quiet of the morning.

The warg-scouts had found them.

Helping Pippin to his feet, Bilbo and Thorin balanced him as they loaded packs and gear into his arms and on his back, a few seconds later and Thorin held an injured pine marten in his hands and Frerin had a black and grey hawk on his shoulder, beak in his hair. The pine marten painfully scrambled up Thorin’s arm and over his shoulder, with little difficulty Pippin slid into the hood of Thorin’s great fur coat, curling up and staying as still as possible. Kíli stepped forward and tied the point of the hood to the back of Thorin’s coat, this would stop the hood, with Pippin inside, from bouncing around too much. So much for Kíli carrying him, but this would work well, too, leaving Kíli’s arms free to use his bow.

A warg attempting to attack, told them, it was time to run.

Radagast and his rabbits attempted to be a decoy, but Bilbo knew that would only work for a certain length of time. They ran… and ran… and ran. Around this rock, around that one, through this dip, over this rise. Thorin trusted Bilbo and Bilbo trusted Gandalf, so they kept going. Finally they were surrounded, wargs closing on them… and it appeared that Gandalf had vanished… again.

The wizard appeared from the rocks and called them, one after the other they slid into the cave-like space, Bofur first, followed by Balin, then Gloín and so on, until only Fíli, Kíli, Bilbo and Thorin remained. Bilbo and Kíli still firing arrows and taking down Orcs. Thorin called them and watched as they slid to safety before joining them.

They wound through the narrow passage, Bofur still in the lead, with Bilbo and the young princes in the rear.

“This will take us to Rivendell, Bilbo? Are you sure?” Fíli asked, nervous at not being able to see if an enemy approached, shuddering as he felt a tingle run across his skin.

“What was **_that?_** ” Kíli gasped, he felt it, too.

“It will, Fíli. Less than an hour and we'll be out of this passage, we’ll be at the back door of Rivendell in about an hour and a half. And that Kíli, was the borders of Rivendell, the magic of the elves keeps out those with evil in their hearts.”

And so it was that they reached the Last Homely House West of the Sea or East of the Mountains, depending on which direction you were travelling.

 

 

allakh khuzd = stupid dwarf

Naibsini Mahal. Binignig nusus, Bilbo. = Walk with Mahal. Stay safe, Bilbo.

Za-e, inrêd mudtu = I will, dear heart.

ZÛ = NOW

Mudtu Bassul = Heart Bond

Imrikh-nadad = Shield-brother

agnât’irakdashat = nephew-in-law


	15. Not what the Elves expected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Lesson for Elrohir  
> Bilbo threatens Elrond  
> Glorfindel is confused  
> Bilbo's revelations  
> Elves are shocked  
> Dwarrow are shocked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edits 26-Aug

The sound of many hooves echoed in the valley. Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other, trying to work out how many horses there were and why they could see only one.

As the twin dark-haired elves came around a clumping of rocks, they saw why, a herd of ponies and one horse clustered on the edge of the trees, just inside the borders of Rivendell, a huge black warg in front of them.

“Warg!” Elrohir gasped, reaching for his bow.

 ** _“NO!”_** Elladan cried.

“What? Why?” His brother asked.

“Look, again, brother.”

Elrohir looked but all he could see was a warg and ponies. What was Elladan seeing that he did not?

“Do you see, now?” Elladan asked.

He looked again. And again. He sighed. Elladan was not going to let him forget this.

“No. All I see is a warg, a very big warg and a herd of ponies.” He grumbled.

“Yes… that’s what I see, too. But… where are they?”

Elrohir looked again. The ponies were hugging the trees and the warg stood between them and the elves.

“The ponies are at the tree-line and the warg is in front of them.”

“Precisely, _[pitya onóro](little%20brother)_.”

Elrohir sighed, Elladan was going to make him ask. Blast him.

“Alright. What am I missing?” He handed over one of Arwen’s hair clips. They both stole them, but whoever could get the other to admit they didn’t know something, got to return them to a grateful sister.

“Where’s the border?”

“The tree-line.” Elrohir replied.

“What does the border’s elven magic do?”

“Keeps out evil beings?”

“Close enough. Where’re the ponies?”

“Inside the tree-line.”

“Where’s the warg?”

“In front of the ponies.”

“Elrohir… I’m going to hit you in a minute.”

“Why?” He whined.

“The warg’s already inside the borders. Right?”

“Right?”

“Argh! If the border keeps out evil, how can the warg **_be… inside… the… border?”_** Elladan nearly screamed at him.

“Oh.” What else was there to say?

Elladan reached over and swatted him over the back of the head. Hard.

“Oww.” He was whining, again.

“Also… the ponies are following the warg, not the other way around.”

“What makes you say that?” Elrohir asked.

“One, because the ponies are behind the warg. Two, they came in over the ford, that’s behind them. Three, the ponies are gathered around the warg, so they’re not afraid of it.” Elladan counted off on his fingers as he spoke.

“Whoever heard of ponies following a warg, before?” Elrohir asked.

“Whoever heard of a warg being able to enter through an elven border, before?” His brother countered.

“Point taken.”

As the two argued, the warg and the ponies trudged across the valley in their direction.

“Elladan?”

“What, now?” He sighed.

“There’s something on the warg’s back. What is it?”

“A goblin?” It wouldn’t surprise him.

“No… I think… ah… it’s a bit small for a goblin, but… what is it?”

This time it was Elladan that frown and studied the warg.

“I’m not sure. I could be wrong, easily, but I think… I think it’s… a child?”

 

Bilbo and Frerin looked at Rivendell in wonder. Both missed the discontent on the faces of the other dwarrow, at least until Thorin spoke.

“Master Baggins?... Do not let the… **_elves_** … see that look on your face, not if you want to demand things of them. Nor you, nadad.”

The disgruntled tone made Bilbo glance quickly at the Company’s leader, at the scowl on the dwarf’s face, Bilbo changed his mind on what he’d been about to say.

“Now, Thorin. The more harmless I look to them, the more I can ask of them.”

“You think that will work on elves, Bilbo? I have my doubts.”

“Perhaps, but the only hobbit Elrond knows was my mother and while she was a remarkable hobbit, I have lived more than twice her lifetime **_and_** have the unfair advantage of having known Elrond and lived in Rivendell for decades.”

“Bilbo?” A curious Fíli spoke. “Why would you live in Rivendell? Why would you not stay in Erebor?” The dwarf spoke quietly, so quietly that only Thorin, Bilbo and Kíli heard him.

“A long story, Fíli. One I will tell, but I want food, a bath and to know that the rest of our Company are safe, first, that story can wait.” Bilbo replied as he began to stomp down the rock steps.

Thorin quickly reached his side and whispered.

“I would hear that story, too, Bilbo.”

“Of course, Thorin. But let’s get down there and reclaim our hobbits, shall we?”

“Indeed.” The dwarf said.

For the next ten minutes, Bilbo lead the way, forcing Gandalf to stay on his heels, if he wanted to be the buffer he thought would be needed. As the party crossed the narrow bridge, Bilbo saw Lindir leaving Elrond’s study and make his way to the marshalling area.

With the dwarrow gathered around the hobbits and looking suspiciously at the pair of elves guarding the stairs to the settlement, the steward began to descend to meet them.

“Mithrandir.” He said.

“Ah, Lindir.”

The pair conversed for a few moments, while Bilbo spotted, an owl-shaped Sam winging his way over the buildings to the south. The hobbit turned to Thorin and whispered.

“They’re here… somewhere.”

“Good. Can you find out where?”

Before Bilbo was able to answer, horns were heard, followed closely by hoof-beats. The dwarrow closed ranks pulling Bilbo and Frerin, those they considered the most vulnerable, into the middle of a dwarrow circle. The horses surrounded them and went around them a number of times, before one elf cam to a halt and dismounted. He greeted Gandalf in Sindarin and the two chatted for a bit, Bilbo heard words such as – hunting, south, Orcs, hidden, before the elf continued in Westron.

When he greeted Thorin, the elf was polite, but distant. Something Bilbo knew from personal experience, was not how the elf usually was. As expected, Thorin was arrogant at first, until Bilbo, subtly, whacked him on the leg, with Sting, just enough for the dwarf to glance at the hobbit and see a blank face with eyes promising retribution.

The elf spoke, again in Sindarin and what he said caused Bilbo to gasp.

“What did he say?” Gloín rumbled. “Did he offer us insult?”

“No, Master Gloín. He’s offering you food.” The wizard said with a small smile.

“Food?” It was too much for the hobbit’s sensibilities. “Elrond Eärendillion! How **_dare_** you?! Food?! **_Food?!_** This is not the elf that my mother praised, this is a spoilt brattling. She’d have you by one of those prissy little braids of yours and be washing your mouth out with soap. And I’ve a mind to do so, myself!”

Silence reigned.

“Who are you that you would speak so freely of the Lord of Imladris, Halfling?” A tall blonde elf said disdainfully.

“Watch your tongue, Glorfindel, Lord of the House of Golden Flowers, I know your weakness for food and I will not hesitate to use it. Who am I you ask? I am Bilbo Baggins and I claim [_úcar_ _ë taina_](debt%20extended%20).”

Again there was silence. Who was Bilbo Baggins? And why was he claiming a Debt Extended? What could a Halfling do that would cause a Lord of Elves to offer a Debt Extended?

“Why would you claim such a thing?” The blonde elf spluttered.

“Provide us with the rest of our party and a meal suitable for guests and I’ll happily explain. But Elrond? We are guests in your house and you will treat us accordingly.”

“ _[Ala-mer’l ana’har](unwanted%20guests)_.” The blonde sneered.

“So? Many times your rangers and elves just showed up in the Shire and were fed and housed as honoured guests. Are you saying that elves are so chary that they will not extend to others what has been extended to them? Is that it?” Bilbo retorted.

“Bilbo, perhaps-”

“Close your mouth, Olórin. This will be settled.” The hobbit stated, bluntly, silencing not only the wizard, but also the elves.

“While I have no desire to insult our hosts – I would like to think **_I_** am a better guest than that - I will not tolerate rudeness, Gandalf, not from you, not Elrond and certainly not from Glorfindel. Not if he wants me to cook… after all, I know all my mother’s recipes and she did tell me of a certain fondness for her [spiced _orva_ and _aipi_ tarts](Spice%20apple%20and%20plum%20tarts).” The hobbit’s voice became sly as he uttered that last sentence.

There was a twitch of lips that spoke of Elrond withholding a smile.

“Very well. Our guests, you shall be.” He turned to Lindir. “Lindir, please see that rooms suitable for dwarrow royalty are prepared and that meats are added my earlier request.”

“Yes, my lord.” The steward bowed and left.

“I have a question for you, Bilbo Baggins.” He waited until Bilbo nodded. “Why would you ask that we provide you with the rest of your party? I know of no others entering the valley of Imladris, this day.”

A new elf, alike enough to Elrond for there to be no doubt in anyone’s mind that the younger male was his son, approached and whispered urgently in his father’s ear, so quietly that none heard, not even Glorfindel, who stood at his Lord’s side. Elrond’s eyebrows rose, his eyes widened and his jaw fell open in shock, he turned to fully face his son as he asked.

“Are you sure?”

_“[S](Certain,%20father.%20It%20lead%20us%20to%20your%20study%20garden)_ [_ína, atar. Sa lanu met ana-lya parma samb_ _ë tarwa.”_](Certain,%20father.%20It%20lead%20us%20to%20your%20study%20garden)

“It **_lead_** you there?”

“Yes,  _[atar](father)_.”

Elrond turned to Bilbo.

“Would you know anything about a warg... being ridden by a child... leading a herd of ponies... into my private garden?” As he spoke Glorfindel’s face showed puzzlement, each section of that question, caused the blonde elf’s confusion to grow.

“Yep.” Bilbo chirped, with a grin. “They’re ours.”

The young elf tilted his head.

“How is it that a warg can enter the boundaries of Imladris?”

“Why don’t we all go there, you see to some food and I’ll explain, before Galadriel and Saruman get here?” Without waiting, Bilbo grabbed Kíli by the hand and Fíli by the sleeve and trotted off, the other dwarrow squawking and chasing after them. Around the stairs and across a pair of bridges, under an archway and through a tunnelled walkway, before turning in through an arch in a wall. They emerged into a spacious and sheltered garden... that currently housed twenty Rohirrim ponies, one horse and a warg.

“There you are.” The Hobbit smiled. “Did you have any trouble?”

Elrond, his son, Glorfindel, Gandalf and the dwarrow had all followed the hobbit, along with a bevy of nosy elves. The warg growled at the amount of elves and Glorfindel ordered them away, all but a pair of wickedly armed elves that he ordered to guard the arch.

The warg made a curious sound and with a chitter, Pippin, who’d been hiding in Thorin’s hood emerged, climbing up onto the dwarf’s shoulder, the warg and the pine marten seemed to be having a lengthy chat, when an owl swooped down and settled on the dwarf’s other shoulder and entered the discussion.

“Alright, you lot, that’s enough. Be quiet for a minute, please.” Bilbo said and the three animals fell silent. “Thank you, lads. Elrond, Glorfindel and…” he studied Elrond’s son carefully for a moment. “Elrohir… Where’s your brother?” Elrond gasped, no one out side their immediate family had ever managed to tell the Twins apart.

“I’m up here.” The voice came from a tree in the middle of the garden.

“Come on down from there, Elladan.” Bilbo called.

“Not a chance. Not while the warg is there.” The warg grumbled and growled for a few seconds.

“Well, if you hadn’t tried to touch what you’re not supposed to, he wouldn’t have snapped at you. Now, get down out of the tree. Merry, come on over here and let the elfling alone, there’s a lad.”

“I’m no elfling!” The elf didn’t so much descend out of the tree as tumble, causing his brother to smile, his father to wince and Glorfindel to shake his head.

“Could have fooled me.” The blonde elf muttered.

“Now, now, be nice.” Bilbo chided and the elf huffed. “Glorfindel?”

“Yes, Halfling.”

“First? Please don’t call us Halflings, we’re not half of anything, we’re hobbits. Second? Would you be so kind as to ask Vandir to come down from his roost? We’re going to show you something in a moment and I’d really dislike him to loose an arrow by mistake.”

The blonde elf looked at the hobbit, his expression changing from surprise to consideration. He turned to what appeared to be a blank wall and made a hand gesture, similar enough to Iglishmêk, that Bifur understood the direction. Within a minute, another elf joined them, this elf carried a quiver and bow, he bowed to Elrond and raised an eyebrow to Glorfindel.

“Don’t look a me, the hobbit wanted you called down. He knew you were there and called you by name.”

Vandir’s eyebrows reached for his hairline, before he got his expression under control. He bowed to Glorfindel, nodded to Elladan and Elrohir and left the garden, leaving the four elves alone with the Company, the ponies, the warg, the wizard and his horse. As he reached the arch, Lindir stepped under the vine-twined stone. The steward bowed and spoke.

“My Lord Elrond? Rooms are ready for your guests and the kitchens state that they will serve a feast fit for Durin, himself, in three hours. In the mean time they are sending platters of cold roasted meats, breads and cheeses, along with hot teas and warm ciders. Also I have taken the liberty of calling the stable master and his grooms to attend to your guests’ mounts.”

He stood to one side as a troop of elves entered. Two carried two tables each, quickly set these up and covered them in heavy white cloths. The rest carried a pair of platters each, these were laden with cold meats and vegetables, cheeses, bread rolls, jugs of cider, pots of tea and one platter held bowls of salads. Another four elves entered and approached the ponies and Gandalf’s horse, with quiet words they gently escorted the mounts away. Quickly and quietly the apron-clad elves set their burdens down, laid them out on the tables and they, too, departed. When they’d all left, Lindir bowed and he followed them, nodding to the guards at the arch.

Elrond was surprised that the dwarrow hadn’t stormed the tables, but it was evident that they were waiting for something and the Lord of Rivendell had no idea what that something was.

“Right, then. First things, first. Dwalin if you would, please bring Posy-dear down? Thorin, please bring Pippin over here, too. Sam, Frodo, down you come, lads.”

As Bilbo spoke, Elrond watched the owl, that had landed on Thorin’s shoulder, flutter down to the ground and a hawk that had been perched on a blonde dwarf’s shoulder, joined the owl. Were the two birds, pets? And what of the pine marten? What about the warg? A tall shaven headed dwarf nodded to Bilbo and without hesitation moved to the side of the warg, he laid a hand on the warg’s shoulder and when the warg nudged him gently, he reached up and grasped the child that slept on the warg’s head. The child slid easily down the neck of the warg and into the arms of the dwarf, her masses of white-blonde hair falling over the shoulder of the dwarf and draping down his back. For all the weaponry strapped to him, he held the child comfortably, as one at ease with such a burden.

“Elrond? Eighty years from now, you, Galadriel and Gandalf will sail to the undying lands. For five of us here, that has already happened.” There was a gasp from the Twins. “Not all of us sailed **_with_** you, it is true, but Frodo and I did. We spent only a week in Valinor before Tulkas, Irmo and Manwë decided that we deserved peace, a peace we were not finding in Valinor. They offered us the chance to be Restored to life and join Thorin on this quest, again.”

“Again?” Glorfindel asked.

“Again. This is not the first time I’ve been in Rivendell, nor for my fellow hobbits.”

“Fellow hobbits? You appear to be the only hobbit here, Master Hobbit.” Elladan said.

“Appearances can be deceptive, Elladan. When the Valar sent us back, Frodo and I did not come alone, they retrieved others to join us, others that did not sail to Valinor, but instead stood on the quays of the Grey Havens and watched us leave. They were brought through time to stand at our sides. Irmo is the Master of Dreams and Desires, Tulkas is the Champion of the Valar and between them they gave us Gifts, Gifts the like of which the West has **_never_** seen. Frodo? Join us please?”

The elves looked around they expected to see someone slink from the shadows, but no one appeared. Then Elrohir saw it... A shimmering in the air. He called to his father. Elrond moved to stand beside his sons and Glorfindel moved to do likewise. The air twisted and the hawk swelled, increasing in height until…

The dark-haired hobbit ignored the elves and instead, dropped the many tied  together packs and bedrolls that he held,  then he moved on silent feet to stand beside the dwarf who, as a hawk, he’d ridden on the shoulder of. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, a united front. Only then did he look at the elves, he blinked at the stunned looks on their faces.

“Sam? If you please.” Bilbo said.

Another shimmer, another twisting in the air and another hobbit joined them, he rubbed his shoulders and arms and he, too, moved to join the dwarrow.

“Thorin? If you’d put Pippin down, just here. Good, good. Thank you. Pippin? Are you ready?” The pine marten made a whimpering sound, but still the air shimmered and twisted. The shape of a hobbit could barely be seen before it collapsed, packs and hobbit hitting the ground with a muffled groan.

“Oh, Pippin, I’m so sorry, I forgot about your foot. Here, lad, let’s get these packs out of the way. Kíli, Fíli? Give me a hand, please?” Bilbo had darted forward and was pulling packs, satchels and bedrolls away as he spoke, two young dwarrow joined him, between them they removed the packs and revealed another hobbit, his foot clearly swollen and bandaged.

“Merry? You must be tired and hungry lad. Come on, now. Shift and we’ll get you something to eat.” Bilbo fussed over Pippin as he spoke, holding the younger hobbit, as he eased them over to a bench. “You sit there for a bit. We’ll get Elrond to fix you once you’ve eaten. Alright?”

There was a yet another shimmering of air and a fourth hobbit stood… where the warg had been! The hobbit sighed and shuffled over to join the one sitting on the bench, exhaustion written in every movement. How was this possible? Hobbit skin-changers? How was this possible?!

It was Glorfindel that asked the question running through the minds of all four elves standing in that walled garden.

“Master Baggins? How is this possible? How can hobbits be skin-changers? I thought the Enemy had wiped out all the skin-changer clans.”

“He has. There is only one natural skin-changer left. Beorn. His lands are just to the west of Eryn Galen. I told you, we were given Gifts. But we’re not skin-changers, we’re shape-shifters. We’re not sure if it comes from Irmo or from Tulkas or if Manwë is responsible, but one or all of them changed us. The five of us hobbits - no, not Posy-dear, she joined us later – have the ability to shift into two forms each. All five of us can become wargs, Merry is right in the middle as far as size is concerned, Pippin and Sam are smaller and Frodo and I are larger. We also have an individual shift, ones that unique to each of us. Pippin, as you saw, was a pine marten, Sam’s an owl and Frodo’s a hawk. Merry’s is a white wolf and I am a lynx.” As Bilbo spoke he approached laden tables and dished up two plates of food, he carried them back to the bench and handed one to each hobbit, before heading back and dishing up, again.

“Now, those that are born able to change their skin, differ from us in three ways. One. We have more than one animal form. Two. In the actual process of shifting from one form to another… well, as you saw, we have an almost instant shift, for us, it’s like entering a really hot tub, we’re hobbits when we start, then there’s the shock of the heat… and then… we’re not hobbits anymore. Three. And this is the most important thing. We only change our shapes, we retain our minds, completely. Frerin calls us… warg-shaped-hobbits or hawk-shaped-hobbits, etc. and that’s pretty accurate.”

“Frerin?” Elrond asked.

“Ah... That would be me.” The blonde dwarf, standing with the dark hobbit, said. “Frerin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór.” He bowed, slightly.

 _“[Atar? Sanwë-nyë tana ná haryon qualin’l sé Cilintír-lóna?](Father?%20I%20thought%20the%20Prince%20was%20killed%20at%20Mirrormere?)”_ Elladan asked quietly.

“No, Elladan.” Bilbo corrected. “But that **_is_** what was **_thought_**. Frerin was injured badly at the Battle of Azanulbizar, but not killed, no. Thorin and all those who knew him, believed Frerin dead. But he wasn’t. His injury had locked his memories away, though, and knew little of himself. He knew he had a brother and sister, but not their correct names, just as he knew that while his siblings called him Ferri, it wasn’t his name. That was the extent of his knowledge about himself. He knew dwarrow culture, language, history and traditions, but not his Family Line. Dwarrow won’t accept those that cannot claim a Family Line, so he was driven away, Men and dwarrow alike would not accept him, but hobbits did. To a degree, anyway. We found him, or he found us, and we kept him. I knew Thorin was coming and one look at Frerin and it’s obvious that he’s Thorin’s brother. I mean? Look at the eyes, for heaven’s sakes. Anyway, we kept him, Thorin arrived and… and here we are.”

As he spoke Bilbo was busy, he’d pulled a bedroll out of the pile of packs, undone it and spread it out, he’d waved to the shaven headed dwarf, who’d gently lowered his burden to the padded roll. After this the hobbit bustled around tasting bits of this and dishing up plates of that, he handed plates to hobbits and dwarrow without any, seeming, preferences. When he’d started dishing up food, the dwarrow joined him, filling plates and mugs.

Elrond noted, however, that all the dwarrow were attentive to the hobbits and were surprisingly well mannered. There was no throwing of food, no yelling and all of them fussed over the injured and exhausted hobbits.

“Master Baggins?” Glorfindel asked. “Earlier you mentioned Saruman and Galadriel? I wasn’t aware of their arrival. Are you sure they’re coming here?” The elves watched as two of the hobbits tensed, but made no comment.

“Yes, Glorfindel. They should be here before long. If I’ve got my timing right… they should be here, either later tonight or tomorrow. When we entered Rivendell last time around, they were already here before us, we might be nearly a week ahead of last time, but, as I said, they were here before us. There’s much I’ll need to tell them, much they need to know and very little of it is pleasant. I’ll not go into too much detail, now, but Galadriel can verify the truth of what I have to say and then… then I’d like to visit the Valar’s Garden. There’s a question I would ask Mahal or Manwë.”

Glorfindel blinked. The hobbit spoke of Aulë and Manwë so casually.

“But for now? I’d like to tell you a tale. Will you listen, Elrond?” Best get the shocks over with.

“We will.” The lord of Rivendell replied.

“Thank you… To begin. I was born on the 22nd of September in the bathroom of Bag End…”

 

When Bilbo finally finished his tale, there was shock and despair on Thorin’s face, but there was also determination. Fíli and Kíli stood at his sides, while their faces showed sadness, there was no shock. The rest of the Company, however… shock, anger, sadness, determination, it was all there. But even so, the reactions of the dwarrow were nothing compared to the reactions of the elves.

Elrond and Glorfindel had, at different time, staggered backwards reaching for something to support themselves with. Elladan and Elrohir, had not even the chance to reach for support, they’d sat down abruptly, their legs not able to hold them upright.

“While you may doubt me, do not say you don’t – you would be lying, I wanted you to hear this, now. Before Galadriel arrives, so that when she does and I tell the White Council this tale, you four can hear from her mouth, that what I tell you is truth and only truth.”

A whimper came from Kíli, as what Bilbo said, sunk in.

“This is why you did not stay in Erebor, isn’t it?” Fíli asked, barely holding back his own whimpers.

“Yes, Fíli. Watching the three of you die? That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, before or since. But… there was no way I could stay in Erebor. Not after that. Daín didn’t understand, but the Company did, to a point. I never told them, ever. They never knew that Kíli was my Heart Bond.” A gasp came from the gathered dwarrow. “To have stayed in Erebor without him… was impossible. It would have torn my heart from my chest every single day. I couldn’t stay. I returned to the shire, to Bag End. And I mourned, for the next eighty years.” He opened his arms and both Kíli and Fíli rushed into his embrace, tears running freely down their faces. “Oh, hush now, boys. My dear, sweet boys. It’s alright now. I’m here, my boys and we’ll get it right this time. I swear it.” He turned, with his arms full of dwarrow, back to Elrond.

“In Valinor, you told me you would help us. That if you hesitated, I was to tell you that I claimed Mother’s _‘[Ant Nestadren Tuia-Galas](Gift%20of%20Healing%20Spring%20Growth)_. After waking in Bag End, I went looking for Mother’s journals, when I read them, I went scrabbling through a storage room for her memory box, in it I found your tokens. Five Mithril Mallorn Leaves.” The dwarrow inhaled sharply.

“Five Mallorn leaves?” Glorfindel gasped.

“Mithril?” Thorin gasped.

“Five Mithril leaves, one for each member of my family.” Elrond replied, as he spoke he knelt beside Pippin and applied his hands, and skills, to the hobbit’s injured foot. “When elves are born a tree is planted for them, to symbolise their connection to both the earth and the sky, the world we live in and the world the Valar live in. Celebrían’s Tree was in Lothlorien and Galadriel sent me word it was failing, Belladonna was here at the time and she told of a process that is used in the Shire, to ensure that a tree never quite dies. Apparently there are trees in the Shire that are part of the four trees that Yavanna gave the first hobbits after their creation.”

“There are. When the first trees started to fail, Yavanna told us to take a cutting from the tree and how to join it to the roots of a healthy tree. We call it ‘splicing’ and every hobbit is taught how to splice plants.” It was Sam that confirmed this.

“Belladonna chose ten seedlings, two orange, two plum, two peach, two cherry and two apple. She made me take her to Lothlorien, there she explained the process to Galadriel and received permission to take ten small branches from Celebrían’s Tree. She took the seedlings and the branches and joined them together. We watched in fear and sorrow as one after another of these died. At the end of that spring there were only three still living. We brought two of them back to Rivendell and planted them here, one Belladonna planted in Lothlorien. Look behind you, these trees are the trees that Belladonna saved. The physical symbol of my wife’s connection to the Valar.” Tears graced Elrond’s face, but tears not sadness but of joy.

“Such a Debt that can never be fully repaid.” Glorfindel murmured quietly.

Bilbo held onto the two princes with one arm, using the other he pulled a chain from around his neck, a bright white metal chain. Kíli, whose face was pressed into his neck, blinked and gasped at the sight of it.

“Mithril.” He breathed.

“Five Mithril leaves, Elrond. And I would claim four of them now.” Elladan and Elrohir eased themselves from their seat on the ground to their knees, looking from Bilbo to Elrond.

“And I will honour your claims.” Elrond bowed formally to Bilbo. “What is it you would ask of me?”

“Firstly? Our ponies… we cannot take them the way we must go and I would have them taken to Lothlorien for us. Secondly. In our possession there is a pair of cloth wrapped bundles. I would have them brought to Erebor, for after the reclamation. Thirdly. I want access to your forges. I have Beads to make.” Kíli shuddered in Bilbo’s arms and Fíli snickered against his shoulder. Snickers could also be heard from Frodo, Frerin and Thorin. “Fourthly. Posy-dear needs help, Elrond. A hobbit attacked her twice, before he caused the death of her father and now she’s retreated. She reacts to a degree, but she will not speak. Help her, please. Later, after the Mountain is safe, we will come for her, either ourselves or we will ask that someone you trust bring her to Erebor.”

“There is no need to claim a debt for us to help those in need. We will help her and you will keep that leaf.”

“Very well. In that case… The three leaves claimed? I would keep the Mithril of them, to use in making the Beads I need. Not all of those can, or should, be made here but I would melt down the leaves or cut them or… whatever you feel necessary to declare them claimed.”

“Again, not necessary to use a claim for that, just ask and it shall be given. I acknowledge three claims and further, I will state that the metal of all five leaves and the chain are yours, to do with as you please. I will send my sons with your ponies to Lothlorien and on to Erebor with whatever possessions you do not take with you. When your… Posy-dear? Is that what you called her?” Bilbo nodded. “When Posy-dear is ready, we… Glorfindel and I, will personally bring her to wherever you are.”

A polite tapping drew their attention to the walled archway. Lindir stood there, waiting patiently.

“Lindir?” Elrond called.

“My lord. A message has come. Galadriel and Saruman the White will be arriving by sunset.” The steward stated.

“Thank you Lindir. Would you see to rooms for them and tell them the White Council is called to meet.”

“Yes, my lord.” The steward bowed and left.

“Seems your timing was right after all Bilbo.” Thorin stated.

“It does indeed.” Bilbo grinned.

“Bilbo?”

“Yes, Merry?”

“Pippin and I? We… we… can't…” He took a deep breath. “Pippin and I can’t see Saruman, not yet. It’s still too raw for us. We can’t do it. Not yet.”

“I know, Merry and I’m not going to ask you to. I’m not asking any of you to. This is my task, the White Council. Later you can meet with them, if and when you are ready.” Bilbo assure the hobbits. “For now? Elladan, Elrohir? How about you two show us to our rooms and we can get cleaned up?”

The two elves bowed and grinned.

“Of course, Master Bilbo. This way, please.” The Twins lead them from the garden.

 

 

Khuzdul = (K)                       Quenyan = (Q)

 

pitya onóro = little brother (Q)

úcarë taina= debt extended (Q)

Ala-mer’l ana’har = unwanted guest (Lit. trans ‘unwanted to stay’) (Q)

orva and aipi tarts = apple and plum(Q)

Sína, atar. Sa lanu met ana-lya parma sambë. = Certain, father. It lead us to your study garden. (book chamber) (Q)

 _Atar? Sanwë-nyë i Haryon ná qualin’l sé Cilintír-lóna? =_ Father? I thought the Prince was killed at Mirrormere? (Q)


	16. Truths Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Balcony full of dwarrow  
> A Shock for the White Council  
> A Shock for Frerin.  
> A Gift for a Friend  
> A Hobbit Loosing patience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edits 26-Aug

Glorfindel spotted the hobbit he was looking for and began weaving his way through the paths of Rivendell. Had the hobbit known he was in the quietest place in Rivendell?

As he crossed bridges and descended steps, he found himself face to face… well, chest to face, with a blonde dwarf. A second glance at the dwarf had him blinking in surprise.

“Master Dwarf? May I ask where you acquired that blade? The one on your belt?” He bowed to show his lack of aggression, he **_really_** wanted to know.

“This one?” The dwarf touched the blade, when Glorfindel nodded, he continued. “As you heard Bilbo earlier, you know he’s done this journey before, one of the things he said had to happen was that we dealt with a trio of Mountain Trolls. They’d killed a farmer's family, destroyed their home and were attacking travellers that passed by. Bilbo lead us to their hoard and we emptied it. Most of the stuff was of elven make and Bilbo wanted it to come back here, but he insisted that each of us took a blade from the stash. He said that the blades will glow when we get near Orcs or goblins. This blade drew me, I do not know why, but my hand reached for it without thought, so? I chose it.”

“Hmm.” The elf hummed for a moment. “Master Dwarf-”

“Frerin. My name is Frerin. I would prefer that it was used.” He was interrupted.

“Ah. As you wish… Frerin, I am Glorfindel and like you, I would prefer my name was used. That balcony there?” He pointed. “My chambers open onto that balcony. If you would like to hear the origins of the blade you carry? Meet me there in 30 minutes.” Glorfindel stepped to the side and continued on his way.

“Glorfindel?” He stopped and turned slightly. “May I bring another with me?” Frerin asked.

“Of course, Frerin, you may bring any that are interested. I will identify any blades that I can.” He nodded and started walking again, time was running out and he had a duty to perform. He crossed another bridge and finally was in the same space as the hobbit he sought.

“Master Baggins?” He waited until the hobbit turned to face him. “Lady Galadriel has asked for your presence. The White Council will meet in one hour and she would have you join them, two hours from now.”

“Thank you, Glorfindel… Ah, Glorfindel? These blades? Would you know who they belonged to, are they distinctive enough for that?”

The hobbit slowly brought out one blade, gently and carefully, it was never wise to draw a blade too fast around the balrog killer. Glorfindel took it and assessed the blade, the etching and shape giving him enough clues to determine the origin.

“These were created as part of a set of six, by Fëanor for Finarfin, on the event of his departure from Valinor to lead the Noldor during the War of Wrath. How these came to be in a Troll’s hoard, I do not know. They were lost during the last battle of that War.” He handed the blade back to the hobbit. “They have always flown true, may they do the same for you. I have offered to tell Frerin of the origin of the blade he carries and directed him to meet me on the balcony near my chambers, in 30 minutes, if he would hear me. If others wish to know of their blades, I will do what I can to identify their origins.” He bowed and made to leave. “If you would care to join us, I think, he’s nervous of meeting me alone.”

“Quite likely, but not for any reason that you’d think of. He and Frodo are an unrecognised [_enda v_ _ér_ _ë_](Heart%20Bonded), they’ve yet to see it and so are hesitant to be apart.”

“Ah… that is understandable. A hobbit and a dwarf, Heart Bonded. I have never heard of such a thing, before.”

The hobbit laughed, merrily.

“Neither had I, not until I realised that **_I_** was Bonded with a dwarf. Frodo’s not alone in that. It must be an Uncle/Nephew thing.” He saw the puzzlement on Glorfindel’s face. “Frodo will Bond with Frerin, when they get around to it, and I with Kíli. Frodo is the one I call nephew… although technically, he’s my cousin, but we think of each other as much more, and Kíli is Frerin’s nephew. Uncles and Nephews. Maybe there’s something in our blood that ties us to the Line of Durin. Who knows… for that matter, who cares?” The hobbit grinned.

Glorfindel laughed.

“Indeed, Master Baggins. Heart Bonds are the purveyance of Varda, the Queen of Stars, and none can say why She chooses as She does. If you will excuse me? I have more messages to deliver and apparently I am hosting dwarrow on my balcony, shortly.”

“Glorfindel? A hint for you? They love sweets. They’re not the greatest with vegetables, but dwarrow really enjoy their sweets.”

“Thank you, that makes it much easier. [_Alima and_ _ún_](Good%20evening) _[ë](Good%20evening).”_ He bowed and departed.

He’d basically offered to host dwarrow on his balcony, Nienna save him from his big mouth.

 

It was almost 35 minutes from when he parted with Frerin, when Glorfindel saw the first dwarf wander their way onto his balcony. That it wasn’t Frerin was slightly surprising, that it was Thorin Oakenshield was more surprising. Within seconds, the sounds of running feet could be heard.

“[Nadad](Brother). Evening.” Frerin greeted his brother.

“Thorin.” The dark hobbit greeted Thorin and stole a peach turnover from a plate on the table, breaking it in half he passed a piece to Frerin and nibbled on the bit in his hands.

“Frerin, [nadad-ê](my%20brother). Frodo.” The leader of Durin’s people, grinned at the pair. “Leave some for the rest of us.”

Frerin grinned… and stuffed the sweet treat into his mouth.

“[Nadanul burg](childish%20brat).” Thorin shook his head and absently reached for a miniature tart.

More feet were heard and then, boots. Within a minute his balcony was full of dwarrow, with a few hobbits thrown in to round out the mix.

“Master Glorfindel?” A young, redheaded dwarf, wearing hand-knitted half-mitts, approached him. “Would you allow me to return here, another time? The view is amazing and I’d like to sketch it.”

“Of course, Master…?”

“Ori, Master Glorfindel, my name is Ori.”

“Master Ori. There are few places in Rivendell that an artist is not welcome in, if you can walk there from a public area, then you will be fine. Just… stay away from Lord Elrond’s private areas and from Lindir’s office. Other than that… draw what you will, Master Ori.”

“Oh, thank you.” The young dwarf smiled shyly, he left to join others near the tables.

Glorfindel felt eyes on him, judging eyes at that. He turned, looking for those eyes, but never saw them. Before he had a chance to look more intently, Frerin caught his attention by stepping forward.

“Glorfindel? You mentioned earlier that you knew the origins of my blade? Would you tell me?” The blonde dwarf asked.

Frerin’s question had a definite effect on Glorfindel's guests, quickly each of them grabbed a sweet of some kind, a mug of drink and found themselves a seat. Bilbo sat with the young she-hobbit tucked against his side, the two young dwarrow that had cried on him earlier, one on each side of them. Thorin sat to their left and a trio of hobbits sat with Frerin and Frodo, to their right. The rest sat in clumps, Ori sat with two older dwarrow, one with very intricate braids and one with a tri-point hairstyle. A large redhead sat with a solid older dwarf, their features similar enough to suggest blood-kin, while another pair, a large bald dwarf sat shoulder to shoulder with a much shorter dwarf with a shock of brilliant white hair. Lastly a motley trio leant against the balustrade, one with a disreputable hat, one almost as round as he was tall and the third… Glorfindel had to look twice, he had an axe in his forehead!

Glorfindel had to force his attention back to the question at hand.

“I did and I shall. The blade you bear was made as one half of a pair, as long-daggers to be borne into battle at the Fall of Gondolin. It and it’s mate served well and ended the lives of many evil beings. The blade you bear is called ‘ _[Astar](Loyalty)_ ’, which in Quenyan means Loyalty. And a loyal blade it was.” He paused, a thought racing through his mind, but he decided to wait and ponder it longer.

“Thank you, Glorfindel.” Frerin responded thoughtfully.

That was the ice-breaker, over the next hour and a bit, one by one, Glorfindel's guests showed their blades and asked if he could identify them. There were only three that were unknown to him, but with the assistance of Ori, he had a sketch of each item to take to Erestor in the morning.

A soft humming in the back of his mind, a warning from Galadriel, reminded him that Bilbo was to attend the Council. He waited until a pause in conversation, to speak.

“Bilbo?” Throughout the evening tensions had relaxed and they were all now on first name basis with each other. “The White Council are meeting on the _[hententa](viewing)_  terrace. Do you know the way? Or would you prefer, I guide you?”

“No, no, you stay here. It’s up by the path to the Tear and the Valar’s Garden. I’ll be fine, Glorfindel.” The hobbit gently unwound himself from a dozing Posy-dear and literally bounced to his feet, he touched foreheads with Kíli and then with Fíli and Thorin. A touch to Frodo and Frerin shoulders, followed by a swift hug with the other hobbits and he was gone, into the darkness.

It would be hours before he returned. The dwarrow, with Glorfindel's permission, would stay on the balcony, talking, drinking and eating until the return of their companion.

 

Bilbo scurried through the darkness, he took paths without thought. He paused to catch his breath at the base of the stairs that lead to the viewing terrace. With a deep breath, he straightened his waistcoat and started up the stairs. As he reached the main level, he saw Elrond drop a leather hide over something on the table. There were three others present, besides the Lord of Rivendell, Gandalf, Galadriel and a man, Bilbo assumed to be Saruman.

“So, this it the Hobbit.” The voice was rich and deep, but there was an arrogance to it that rubbed him wrong. He reminded himself that once he’d told his tale, Galadriel would be able to confirm it’s accuracy.

“I am. I am Bilbo Baggins, son of Belladonna and Bungo Baggins.”

“I do not understand why the hobbit is before us. What can he possibly add to our deliberations.” The arrogant man stated and something in Bilbo twisted in dislike.

“Perhaps, if you’d let me speak, you would find out.” He started. “I was born-”

He went on to tell the tale of his life, he left out nothing, nothing at all. He told of Thorin’s quest, he told of being Heart Bonded with Kíli, he told of finding the One Ring, he told of the fall of the Line of Durin, he told of returning to the Shire alone and broken, he told of adopting Frodo, he told of not getting older but feeling stretched, he told of his 111st birthday, he told of the confrontation with Gandalf, he told of letting the One Ring fall from his hand, he told of returning to Rivendell and age finally catching up with him, he told of Gandalf identifying his ring as the One Ring, he told of Frodo’s escape from the Shire, he told of the Nazgûl hunting his boy, he told of Frodo being stabbed by a Morgol Blade, he told of the Council of Elrond and a decision of what to do with the One Ring, he told of Frodo volunteering to carry the Ring to Mordor, he told of the forming of the Fellowship of the Ring, he told of waiting and worrying for his boy, he told of a broken hobbit returning to Rivendell, he told of Galadriel’s offer of a place on a ship to Valinor, he told of two hobbits not finding peace or healing in the land of the Valar, he told of a discussion with Tulkas, Irmo and Manwë and of what was thought to be a hypothetical situation, he told of shock upon finding it to no longer be hypothetical, he told of talks with Elrond, Gandalf and Galadriel and lastly he told of the journey so far.

There was silence when he finished, until the arrogant man spoke.

“And I? Why did you not seek my counsel?”

Bilbo looked at him, yes, he knew who the man was, but he needed to do this right, he needed to make the White Wizard doubt.

“Who are you?” he asked

“Ah, Bilbo this-” Gandalf started.

“Please sit down Olórin. I’m sure the gentleman can speak for himself.” Bilbo cut him off. The White Wizard’s eyebrow twitched.

“I am Saruman the White, the leader of the Wizards on Middle Earth.”

“Ah… I thought that might be the case.” Bilbo made his voice a little regretful, a little hesitant, he paused for a moment and sighed. “The reason we didn’t speak with you, was… well, there’s no easy way to say it… you weren’t there. You died during the War of the Ring.”

There was a gasp from all four beings.

“Died?” Gandalf gasped. “The White Wizard died? How?”

“I don’t know the details, Gandalf, but what I **_do_** know is that Saruman makes a decision that goes wrong, badly wrong. That one decision is directly responsible for his death… and the deaths of thousands of innocent people.” The horror on the faces of the four taller people was striking.

“Thousands?” Elrond asked.

“Directly?” Saruman asked.

“Yes. All I know is that you found something, something that you thought would help in the war against the Enemy, but instead, it did the exact opposite. Exactly what it was, wasn’t made clear. But the destruction that followed was clear. The royal houses of Rohan, Gondor, Dol Amroth, Erebor and Eryn Galen were almost wiped out, thousands dead, homes burnt, cities razed. All because of one decision.” He waited while the four regained their composure. “Lady Galadriel? You’ve been watching inside my mind as I spoke.”

“I have.”

“Is there anything, **_anything_** , that I’ve said, that’s been untrue?”

The blonde she-elf looked at him, she sighed and sat abruptly.

“No… no, nothing.” The elf looked tired, the years of her life, dragging her down.

“No, there wasn’t.” Bilbo confirmed. “Now, I have another task to put to you.”

“What is it you want, Baggins?” Saruman looked drained.

“I have a question to ask of Manwë and Tulkas and I would have the four of you there, as I’m sure that you each have questions, too. There’s a lot I don’t know and a lot we **_need_** to know. We have a war coming, lady and gentlemen and we are **_sorely_** unready. Erebor **_must_** stand. If it falls, the Enemy can devote all his forces to destroying Gondor, if Erebor stands, he must divide his forces. But more than that, he must divide further, he can’t just send half his troops to Gondor and half to Erebor. To get to Erebor he has to go **_through_** Rohan and **_then_** Eryn Galen so, he has to divide his forces significantly.”

Galadriel’s gaze went vacant, when she spoke, her voice hollow, not the hollow of despair but the echo of distance.

“Erebor will stand. If Daín Ironfoot leads the dwarrow of Erebor, thousands will die, but if Thorin Oakenshield leads them, the numbers will be less, greatly less.” She turned to Saruman. “We will give what aid Oakenshield needs. If he or his nephews lead Erebor, hundreds maybe thousands of lives will be spared.”

“Agreed, my lady.” The White Wizard was nearly the same colour as his robes, his face pale and aged. “Do we know what he needs?”

“There is very little we need right now. Once we’re through the mountains, Thranduil is our biggest threat. The last time I did this quest, I spent four weeks skulking around his Halls trying to find my dwarrow after he imprisoned them. I don’t expect Thranduil to help us, but I hope that you can stop him from imprisoning us **_this_** time, that we can pass through his forest unhindered. That and we need a way to carry a lot of food that takes up as little space as possible… but we have a few days to think on these matters. Right now I need to speak to Tulkas, Irmo and Manwë.” Bilbo replied.

 

Back on Glorfindel’s balcony, the elf had come to a decision, as the dwarrow chatted and sang, he climbed to his feet and stretched, quietly entered the rooms he shared with his husband and went to a trunk he kept tucked under their bed. He pulled the trunk out and lifted it gently onto the bed, opening it, he retrieved a cloth-wrapped object, holding it in his hands he sighed and let go of the anger he felt at the loss of so many in the fall of Gondolin. He turned, with the object in his hands and made his way back to the balcony. Almost everyone still awake, Fíli dozed on Thorin’s shoulder, while Ori was snoring against Nori’s chest and Merry and Pippin dozed leaning on each other.

He stepped onto the balcony and walked over towards the group, he paused a little distance from them and spoke formally, what he was doing had not been done since elven-kind had left Valinor for the first time.

“Frerin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, Prince of Durin’s Folk. Step forth.” His voice echoed softly in the night, an echo of ages seen.

All the dwarrow sat up sharply as he named the dwarf. Frerin, frowned, but climbed to his feet.

“I am Frerin, first of that name, son of Thráin, son of Thrór.”

“I am Glorfindel, Lord of the House of Golden Flowers. Draw forth the blade inscribed with the name ‘ _[Astar](Loyalty)_ ’.” He directed. When Frerin, still frowning slightly did so, he held out the object in one hand. “This is the sister blade to ‘ _[Astar](Loyalty)_ ’ and her name is ‘ _[Anwar](Truth)_ ’.” He used his spare hand to slide the wrapping from the blade. “They were forged for me, by Fëanor, for the express purpose of the destruction of evil.” A gasp from many of the dwarrow was heard.

“I was present when elven-kind left Valinor for the first time, I was present when the Noldor were Exiled, I was present at the Fall of Gondolin, I killed a balrog and went to my death thinking that the last of the balrogs were dead and I was at peace with that. I stayed on the Halls of Mandos until the Valar Restored me, they charged me with the protection of Arda. In my life since, I have come to realise that this is a far greater task than can be achieved by one being, no matter their skill.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Frerin, son of Thráin, I pass to you, possession of ‘Astar’ and ‘Anwar’. I charge you, Frerin, with standing between evil and the innocents of Middle Earth. I charge you, Frerin, with protecting the vulnerable from those who would prey upon them. I charge you, Frerin, with opposing those who seek dominion over others.” He reverently handed the dwarf the blade that had protected him so valiantly for so long.

Many of the dwarrow had open mouths, many had wide eyes, but Thorin, Fíli and Kíli also had bright beaming grins, their pride in their kin visible for all to see. Frodo’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but he, too, smiled. The only one who seemed unsurprised was Frerin.

“I will… I will do my best to honour these blades, Glorfindel. When I first touched ‘ _[Astar](Loyalty)_ ’, something told me there was more to it than just a fancy blade, that taking her, that claiming her was far bigger than picking up any other knife. I do not know whether to thank you or curse you, but I will do the best I can to be worthy of the duty you give me.” The dwarf bowed and when he straightened, he went and sat beside Frodo again.

“Come back here tomorrow and I’ll see to helping you in making their scabbards fit you properly.” Glorfindel had dropped the formality now. “Unlike most worn on the back these two are worn under your travel pack, so there’s a little bit of fiddling with the harness until they sit right.”

Thorin stood and stepped forward.

“Glorfindel, thank you. Thank you for your hospitality tonight and for honouring my brother this blades such as these. I speak for all here, when I say I hope that he doesn’t have to use them often, but to know that he is armed with weapons that he can not only use, but use well? All I can do is say thank you, again and…” Thorin took a breath and added. “I Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King-in-Exile of Erebor, declare you, Glorfindel, Lord of the House of Flowers, [Khuzd-bâha](Dwar-Friend), Dwarf-friend.” He pulled a chain from under his clothes and carefully removed a bead from the many there and held it out, between finger and thumb. “This bead design has been handed down for generations, from father to son, there were many once that Durin’s Folk would call Friend, but that number has lessened. With our anger, our exile, our very nature, the way we hoard our emotions, this has changed the way we see outsiders. I did not want to come to Rivendell. I make no excuses. I did not want to come here, I did not trust elves, still don’t in many cases, but you? You have treated us honourably and gifted my brother with, what I can see is a very highly treasured possession.” He turned to the other dwarrow present and showed each of them the bead, before he turned to face the elf, again.

“Glorfindel, I would give you, the braid of Friendship and attach this bead to the braid, if you will permit me?”

“Thorin… I… I would be pleased, but know that this is not why I gave Frerin ‘ _[Astar](Loyalty)_ ’ and ‘ _[Anwar](Truth)_ ’. Not at all.”

“I know and that is why I offer it.” The dwarf said.

“Then I would be pleased to accept.”

A soft cheer was sounded at the elf’s words. He crossed to a seat and sat, Thorin crossing to stand at his side, with a nod, the dwarf’s fingers rose to his hair.

 

Bilbo walked beside Elrond into the Garden of the Valar. A soft light issued from the base of the Tear, where the root of it passed through the rock above the Garden’s alcove. Together with the moonlight, it was easy to see the marble altar snugged up against the cliff-face.

Waiting with Galadriel while Elrond called on the Valar was no inconvenience to the hobbit, the lady exuded calm.

After a few minutes, a puzzled Elrond turned to the others.

“Nothing. I called, but no response.” He said with a frown.

“Would you like me to call them, Elrond?” Galadriel asked, still calm.

“Please, my lady.” He bowed, stepped away from the alter and Galadriel glided over to face it.

Two minutes later, she was not so serene, a moue of displeasure on her lips.

“Olórin? Please do the honours.” Saruman directed.

After another two minutes, the Grey Wanderer turned from the alter, like Elrond he, too, had a frown upon his brow. He exchanged places with Saruman and the White Wizard performed the simple rites to call a spirit of the Valar to the Garden.

Nothing happened.

An expression of confusion on his face, echoed by that on the others. All this waiting and anticipation, however, had begun to irritate the hobbit. Seeing the look of complete confusion and loss on the faces of the elves and the same on the faces of the Wizards, caused something to snap inside him. He snarled and stomped over to the alter.

His hands smacked down on the smooth marble like a crack of thunder.

“Get out here you miserable pack of inconsiderate manipulators.” He growled.

 

 

Khuzdul = (K)                       Quenyan = (Q)

 

 _enda v_ _ér_ _ë_ = Heart Bond (Q)

 _Alima and_ _ún_ _ë_ = Good evening (Q)

Nadanul burg = childlike brat (K)

Hententa = viewing (lit. trans – to spot with the eye) (Q)

Astar = loyalty (Q)

Anwar = truth (anwa=true, so I’ve added the ‘r’ to represent the ‘th’) (Q)

Khuzd-bâha = dwarf-friend (K)


	17. Meetings and Beads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angry Hobbit  
> More Gift from the Valar  
> Glorfindel stuns Elrond  
> A day's hard work  
> A touch of formality  
> Bilbo's Bead for Kíli

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! Yay me!  
> I added links, if you put your cursor over a link that is underlined it will give you the translation!  
> Yay! Wahoo!  
> *dances around the room wildy*
> 
> edits - 7-Sept

_Bilbo’s hands smacked down on the smooth marble like a crack of thunder._

_“Get out here you miserable pack of inconsiderate manipulators.” He growled._

 

The sharply drawn breaths of the four beings behind him, passed unnoticed by Bilbo, he was more focused on the vertical slab of shiny black marble set into the cliff’s face. He could see a variation in the sheen of reflections on the slab, these slowly coalesced into an apparition of the Valar.

Six Valar stood there, Tulkas, Irmo and Manwë stood to the front with Nessa, Estë and Varda behind them. The three Ladies shot looks of annoyance at Their Husbands and the Lords themselves were slightly shamefaced.

Bilbo was not a happy hobbit and seeing the Valar in front of him, was just too much.

 ** _“What were you thinking?”_** He snarled. **_“Naked! Naked! You left us naked!”_**

There was a moment of complete silence and then…

 ** _“Naked?!”_** All three Valar Ladies spoke as one, while all three Valar Lords… winced.

“You left them _**naked!?**_ Manwë Súlimo, you had best be thinking of restitution. What **_were_** you thinking?” Lady Varda, Queen of Stars, reached out and smacked Her husband across the back of the head.

The King of the Valar hunched His shoulders and ducked His head, neither of the other two Valar Lords made a sound, there was no way They wanted the attention of Their Queen. Nessa stepped up close to Tulkas’ side and flicked Him on the arm. Estë joined Her Husband and taking His arm, dug Her fingers into His wrist. Both Valar Lords winced again.

Galadriel stepped forward and spoke.

“My Lords, my Ladies, welcome. Bilbo has told us much and we have need of your guidance.”

Saruman also spoke, his attitude had changed dramatically with Bilbo’s revelations.

“Perhaps... we should let Bilbo discuss the quest for Erebor... before we move on to the war to come.” He said almost hesitantly.

“Thank you, Saruman, that would be helpful. It’s been a busy day and I **_am_** rather tired.” Bilbo responded. He turned back to the Valar.

“I need advice, mostly. Two things concern me. Thorin will fall to Gold sickness. I know this, I know that he breaks free of it, too. But my question for you is this? Is there something I, or the Company can do that will bring him out of it, sooner? Do I **_have_** to steal the Arkenstöne again? Isn’t there **_something_** else, that can help?”

The Valar Lords turned to each other and conferred for a few moments. Tulkas turned and spoke over His shoulder, like He was talking to someone in another room, but no one present understood the language that emerged from His mouth, He listened for an unheard reply before facing Bilbo again.

“We don’t think so, unless it’s a threat to his people, one that doesn’t threaten the gold that he’s drawn to. It might work… Maybe. We’ve not had any experience with it before and I hesitate to offer Aulë’s advice.” He added.

“What does Lord Mahal suggest?” Bilbo asked, surely the Valar that created the dwarrow would have an idea.

“Aulë says, and I quote, ‘Take his crown off and smack him across the back of the head with a decent piece of granite, always worked on Durin, so it should work on his sons’. You can understand why I hesitate.” Tulkas delivered Mahal’s speech with a very Dwarroven attitude.

Bilbo snickered.

“It might work, at that. Please pass my thanks along to Lord Mahal and tell Him that we shall certainly consider it. Now, my only other real concern is Mirkwood, we didn’t have enough food to get through the forest and after we ran into the spiders, Thranduil imprisoned my dwarrow last time and I want to avoid that this time. Any advice?” The hobbit asked.

Estë poked Irmo and pushed Him forward, He looked at His wife, She frowned at Him and He sighed and nodded.

“I will sent Thranduil and his son a dream, telling of your Quest and what will happen if you should fail and suggest that he, if not helps you, then not hinders you, either. If you can get Thorin to return the White Gems of Lasgalen to crown the statue of Thranduil’s late queen, that would be helpful. Thranduil commissioned them from Thrór, who wasn’t happy with the design and before it could be completed, Thrór fell to Gold Sickness. If they were returned? It would go a long way to placating Thranduil.” As He spoke, Manwë was busy with Tulkas, the two were telling Their Ladies something, whatever it was, finally had the Ladies smiling.

“That will take some doing. Thorin’s so anti-elves, and he despises Thranduil, in particular. After turning his back on the dwarrow of Erebor when Smaug arrived, Thorin doesn’t trust him.”

“You may tell Thorin, that Thranduil is still paying for that and will be for many decades, possibly centuries, to come. Yes, Thranduil may have faced Fire Drakes in the past, yes, he is disfigured as a result and yes, he feared for his people, **_but_** he allowed innocent lives to be destroyed and he must pay for it. Nienna, Estë and Varda have the matter in hand.” Irmo continued.

“Hmf. That might appease him… maybe.” Bilbo grumbled, as Tulkas raised a hand. “Yes, Tulkas?”

“You mentioned, not having enough food to get through Mirkwood? Why was that?”

“Ah. In part, when we went into Goblintown, the goblins took my dwarrow’s packs, they escaped only with what they wore and some of their weapons. I fell further down into the mountain, but still retained my pack, so there was a few herbs and spices, but little else. In addition to this, when we reached Beorn’s, while he gave us supplies and we had a far amount of food, there were no meats and dwarrow require large amounts of protien to function, water was also an issue, there’s nowhere in Mirkwood that has safe water, except Thranduil’s springs. All of this together, meant that my dwarrow were slowly starving when Thranduil’s son found us.”

“Well, in that case, I may be able to help.” The Valar pulled something from a small pouch at his waist, at first Bilbo thought it was a disc and then a round box, but as the Valar pulled it kept coming. When fully removed from the pouch, the object was a tube, approximately four inches in diameter and roughly twelve inches in length, Tulkas pushed the tube against the barrier in front of the Valar and the tube fell with a clatter onto the marble alter. A second tube joined the first and a third.

“How many in your Company, Bilbo?” Tulkas asked.

“Right now? Twenty one.” The hobbit replied, not a little confused.

“Are those extension tubes, my Lord Tulkas?” Gandalf asked.

“They are.” The Valar replied.

“Ah. I… ah… I have one already.” Gandalf mumbled.

“Then you don’t need a second one. Twenty, then.” Tulkas decided, but kept pulling tubes from His pouch and pushing them through the barrier, until there were a pile of them, rolling around and falling off the alter.

“Tulkas? What exactly are these extension tubes of yours?” Bilbo asked.

“These are a device created by Finwë during the Years of Trees. They were primarily used by those travelling. Olórin, open the tube and show Master Baggins the interior.” Manwë directed.

Gandalf stepped forward and lifted a tube from the alter, he undid the buckle holding a cap on one end and then loosed the drawstring holding the tube closed. Putting the base of the tube on the ground he released the drawstring and the tube opened out flat into a large circular disc… At least, Bilbo thought it was a disc, until he looked closer, then it looked like a… it looked like a barrel in the ground. The hobbit came closer and looked again… and again.

It was a barrel in the ground… but it wasn’t. It was round, yes, but the sides were lined with shelves. Crouching down beside the… thing… Bilbo counted three shelves above the lined floor of the… thing… he estimated that the depth of each shelf was about eight or nine inches, giving a total depth of roughly three foot. Bending down to be eyes on ground level, he guessed that each shelf was also about the same eight or nine inches deep and the centre cylinder was around two foot wide.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Bilbo asked.

“You put food and water inside it, then you can either put it in your pack or strap it to your leg.”

“If I fill that with food and water, there’s not a snowball’s chance in Mordor that I could lift it, let alone carry it for days on end.” Bilbo warned. He was a hobbit, not an elf.

“Ah, but that’s the beauty of these, Bilbo. You’d only be carrying the tube, Olórin lift it above the ground, please.” Tulkas crowed and Gandalf lifted the edges of the thing clear of the ground and Bilbo watched as the wizard waved his hand under the thing. There was no difference inside the thing, for all that it was no longer resting on a solid surface. “You’re only carrying the frame of the tube, itself. Finwë created these extension tubes, he took two physical objects and using elven magic, joined the two together. The barrel doesn’t exist without the tube and the tube doesn’t exist without the barrel.”

“So… I can pack food into it. Food and water. What else can I put in it?” Bilbo asked, a thought running through his mind.

“Anything… anything but a living, breathing being.” Tulkas corrected Himself.

“So… I could fill one with food and water, close it up into that tube and put it inside a second one?”

“Why would you do that?” Gandalf asked, puzzled.

“Well now… I’m looking at all these tubes and my mind says, ‘there’s twenty of them, if I fill eighteen with food and water, can I stack half of those in each of the two remaining? If I can, then I’m only going to be carrying two tube and not twenty of the things’. That’s why I asked.” Bilbo said.

A thoughtful look crossed Tulkas’ face and He hummed. Irmo looked surprised, but Manwë just laughed.

“Yes, Master Baggins, you can. But? Why would you do that, why wouldn’t you give one to each person in your Company?”

“Mostly, because I can see my dwarrow getting peckish and raiding them, if they don’t know about them? If I don’t pull them out until we actually **_need_** them...? I know we’re going to lose things, this way I can put one up for each person, fill it mostly with rations, but I can add just a few things as treats for each of them, some clothes, maybe some weapons, that type of thing.”

“If you’re going do that, then I’ll add two more. That way there’s one for each person and two just for packing the others into.” Tulkas offered and pulled another two tubes from his pouch. Bilbo wondered briefly if his pouch was the same as the tubes or if it was something else entirely.

“Thank you. That would be marvellous.” The hobbit grinned wildly.

“It’s the least they could do, given how they tricked you **_and_** landed you back in this mess, again.” Varda said, with a frown at the three Lords. Irmo and Manwë winced and Tulkas ducked His head with a grimace.

Bilbo grinned at the Valar Queen and when he saw Her **_wink_** at him, he swallowed the laugh threatening to boil over and hurriedly bent, he opened a tube and began stacking other tubes inside the extended area. While didn’t fit all the tubes inside just one tube, he did fit most of them, he would have to think about what else could go in the carrying tubes. Sure he could stash some more food, but he was going to think bigger than that, but right now? He was just too tired to care. As he stood, he wobbled and he had to grab the hand Elrond quickly thrust in his direction, his legs feeling like jelly.

“My Ladies, my Lords. I think Bilbo is at the end of his strength, for today. I’m going to take him back to the dwarrow, now, so he can rest. Should we continue tonight or shall we wait for Bilbo to recover?” Elrond asked.

“Bilbo? Is there anything else we can help you with?” Manwë asked. “Remembering , of course, that we can not give you solutions, we can only give you assistance.”

“You’ve given me a way to carry extra supplies. You’ve got a plan for making Thranduil back off. I think that’s enough, but ask me again in a day or two, once I’ve had time to sleep. I might have a clearer head by then.” Bilbo leant against Elrond’s side.

“Very well. We shall continue tonight and meet with Bilbo again in three nights.” Manwë declared. “We will pause and await your return, Elrond.”

“My Lord, my Ladies. I shall return, shortly.” Elrond bowed to each of the Valar before gently guiding Bilbo’s faltering steps.

Within a minute the hobbit’s fatigue was such that he was barely able to stay upright and with a murmured apology, Elrond bent and lifted the hobbit into his arms, much as one might do with a sleeping child. The hobbit grumbled, but his exhaustion was so great that grumble was all he did. Elrond moved through the darkness of Rivendell with certainty, heading for the suite of rooms assigned to the Company, reaching them, he was startled to find them empty.

Bilbo stirred in his arms and explained.

“Glorfindel’s. They’re all up on Glorfindel's balcony.” He said.

“Ah. Shall I take you there, or leave you here and go tell them?” Elrond asked softly.

“There, please… take me there, I want to be with them, not alone. Please?” Bilbo yawned as he spoke and was dozing before Elrond reached the first set of stairs.

As the elf approached the balcony in question, he saw the dwarrow gathered around Glorfindel, they were chatting and as he was spotted, Kíli and Fíli jumped to their feet.

“What happened?” Kíli was nearly frantic.

“Hush, now, Don’t wake him.” Elrond cautioned. “He’s just tired, the day has caught him. Nothing else.” At the look of surprise on the dwarf’s face, Elrond added. “I swear, Prince Kíli, until he nearly fell from exhaustion, none has laid a finger on him.”

He went to lower the hobbit onto a day lounge, but Kíli stepped closer and scooped Bilbo from the elf, he hugged him close and Bilbo snuggled in closer still. The hobbit hummed and his hand rose and draped over the dwarf’s shoulder, tangling his fingers in the chocolaty strands. He tugged gently on a braid and sighed, his head resting on Kíli’s shoulder and let sleep take him. Kíli crossed back to Fíli’s side and carefully eased himself back down onto the blanket on the balcony flagstones, he leant back against his brother and a sleepy Posy-dear joined them, she climbed into Fíli’s lap and snuggled into Kíli’s side.

Elrond smiled at the image they made, it was a sweet glimpse of a tight-knit family, so he was surprised that Thorin, instead of approaching them, sought out the young redheaded dwarf.

“Ori?” Elrond heard Thorin murmur quietly. “Will you sketch them, please? When we reach Erebor, I would have an image of this, coloured and framed.” The tall dwarf leant close to Ori as he sat with his brothers.

“I can do that, Thorin.” The young dwarf replied.

“Ori?” Elrond’s voice was low and smooth. “Come to my office tomorrow and I’ll see that you have whatever materials you need… if you’ll do one for me, as well?”

“Oh, thank you, Lord Elrond, my sketchbook is almost full. I was hoping I could purchase another, while I’m here.”

“Do that portrait for me and I will happily give you a dozen sketchbooks, Master Artist.” Elrond turned back to the other, he stepped over and crouched in front of Fíli and Kíli and their hobbits. “Will one of you please tell Bilbo, in the morning that is, that Tulkas’ tubes are in my study and he can collect them anytime.”

“Tubes?” Fíli asked.

“Yes, Prince Fíli, tubes. Tulkas issued them to Bilbo and they must be taken with you. Bilbo will carry one, of that I am certain, but I do not know who he will ask to carry the second.”

“What’s in them?” Fíli was curious.

“That? That I do not know, none present at our meeting with the Valar, know.” Bilbo hadn’t decided, so Elrond wasn’t lying, but Bilbo had said he didn’t want the dwarrow to know what the tubes were. Hmm… he’d have to ask Mithrandir to throw a little magic on the tubes so that Bilbo would be the only one that could open them, he’d seen the ginger headed thief sneaking about and wouldn’t put it past the dwarf to snoop. That would likely be the end of Bilbo’s plans.

“Oh… rats.” The blonde prince muttered.

“I do know that you will find out when it’s time. Hopefully, that won’t be until you reach Erebor.”

“Hopefully?” Thorin had heard them and joined the conversation.

“Hopefully… If it’s much earlier, then it means that things haven’t gone quite the way the Valar want them to. I sincerely hope, for all our sakes, that it’s not until Erebor.”

“Huh.” Fíli huffed. “Put like that? So do I.” The prince said.

“Indeed. If you would tell him in the morning, I would be pleased. Or whenever he wakes. He will likely be looking for them.”

“We shall, Lord Elrond.” Kíli spoke for first time since taking the hobbit in his arms.

“Thank you. If you’ll excuse me, I must return to Council.” Elrond stood and made to leave the balcony, but Glorfindel stepped to his side.

“My lord, may I walk with you?” The balrog killer asked.

“Of course, Glorfindel.” The two bowed slightly to the dwarrow and descended the first set of stairs. “You have something you wish to say?” Elrond asked.

“My lord, I do.” The other elf hesitated. “My lord I have passed ‘ _[Astar](Loyalty)’_ and ‘ _[Anwar](Truth)’_ to Prince Frerin.” He grabbed at Elrond as the Lord of Rivendell nearly stumbled off a walkway in shock.

“You gave him _**both?!**_ But… I though you only had ‘ _[Anwar](Truth)’_? I though you said ‘ _[Astar](Loyalty)’_ had been lost?”

“So it had. It was in the troll’s hoard, Frerin said. He also said that even before he touched her, he was drawn to her. As we talked this evening, I watched him, my lord, his fingers are drawn to her, almost as much as they are to the hobbit, Frodo. I though on the matter for a few hours, but finally I reached a decision. I retrieved ‘ _[Anwar](Truth)_ _’_ and passed ownership to him… but that’s not all, my lord. I charged him with the same duty that Manwë, Tulkas and Vairë gave to me.” Thankful that he’d not released Elrond’s arm, he pulled the lord upright a second time and continued walking.

“[ _Sercë’h_ _fatanyu_](Bloody%20Hell), Glorfindel! Don’t do that! Give me some warning before you toss things like that into conversation.” Elrond scolded the other elf, he needed to get his balance back and preferably before he reached the Garden. “Anything else you want to stun me with this evening?” Elrond asked.

“No, my lord… that’s it.” The blonde grinned, as he bowed and came to a halt.

“You’re as bad as the _[sercë’h](Bloody)_  Twins.” Elrond continued to mutter unpleasantries as he kept walking.

Glorfindel watched as his friend faded into the night, his grin spiked as he thought of the reactions to come, the Twins, Galadriel, Saruman and Mithrandir. Oh yes, it was going to be fun! He turned and retraced his steps to his balcony and the crowd of dwarrow there, he was enjoying their company. As he crossed the last bridge, he spotted Erestor and detoured in his direction. His arms sought his husband and the two stood, soaking the peace of the night.

“How did the evening with the dwarrow go?” Erestor asked.

“Good, very good. They’re still up there, ‘tor, I think I like this lot. I gave Frerin _‘[Astar](Loyalty)’_ and ‘ _[Anwar](Truth)’_. The blades drew him, Erestor, he felt the pull of them. He will made a good Protector in the East.”

“You **_what?!_** But… they meant **_so_** much to you.” Erestor’s eyes snapped open.

“They do, but he needs them more than I do. I still have ‘ _[Olcanehtar](Evil%20Slayer%20)’_ , but he? He has a good bow, but only two decent daggers and neither of them fit his hand well. He **_needs_** them, Erestor.” Glorfindel assured his Heart Bonded.

“If you’re sure, ‘fin, I’ll support your choice.”

“As always, you have my thanks. Are you going to come and meet them? Young Ori is a Master Artist, even if he isn’t aware of it. His ‘quick’ sketch of two of the hobbits cuddled up to the two young dwarf-princes… it’s spectacular, Erestor. I doubt even Arwen or Melâni, could do as good a job, Elrond and Thorin both asked for coloured images of the scene. Oh, and we have a few blades that I don’t recognise, would you try to identify them?” He gently turned and guided the other elf towards the stair leading up to the balcony, only to discover that they were the centre of attention, Erestor jolted as he looked up and saw dozens of eyes watching them.

They climbed the steps and joined the Company, introductions were made and the night continued.

 

Dawn came late to Glorfindel’s balcony, it was the reason he’d chosen this particular set of chambers, as he no longer felt the need to rise early, any more. He stood beside Dwalin and Frerin and watched the sun begin to light the valley. Behind them there was a rustling of fabric and when Dwalin glanced over his shoulder, Bilbo was rising from the clump of limbs that had been he, Kíli, Fíli, Posy-dear, Frodo and Thorin.

“Morning.” He chirped with a bright smile.

“Morning, Bilbo.” Dwalin rumbled.

“ _[Alima arin](Good%20Morning)_ , Bilbo.”

“[Bakn](Morning), Bilbo” Frerin yawned.

“Elrond wanted someone to tell you that Tulkas’ tubes were in Elrond’s study. He thought you might want to know. Ah… Bilbo? Why is Tulkas giving you _[tailë rótas](extension%20tubes%20)_?” Glorfindel asked.

Bilbo thought for a moment, before he answered in Quenyan.

“[ _Vi níra nor-etelyë matil imi Eryn Galen._ ”](We%20will%20run%20out%20of%20food%20in%20Mirkwood)

“Oh… well, that would do it.”

“ _[Náto](Yes)_ … Enough of that. I’m hungry, let’s have first breakfast, shall we?”

“First breakfast?” Glorfindel asked, he eyes widening.

Dwalin and Frerin laughed.

“Hey! Food’s important to hobbits.” Bilbo grumbled.

“Shall we raid the kitchens, then?” Glorfindel smirked.

“I think we shall.” Bilbo grinned just as deviously, causing Frerin and Dwalin to groan.

 

A few hours later no one was groaning, instead they were smiling as they finished a hearty Second Breakfast. Fíli and Kíli looked at Thorin and spoke in Khuzdul, earning laughs and jeers.

[“Ka-ammâ amruz ikh-khûthuz?... Mila?”](Can%20we%20keep%20the%20elf?%20Please?)

“[Mênu-ka azur hu ra ahu yasthûn mahmanakhi Erebor, ubdaz](You%20can%20ask%20he%20and%20his%20husband%20to%20visit%20Erebor,%20later).” Their uncle replied, unconcerned. There were laughs and cheers from many dwarrow and a choking sound from Bilbo.

“Bilbo? You alright?” Frodo asked.

“What was that all about?” Pippin asked.

“I’m fine, Frodo, my boy. And never you mind, Pippin.”

The sight of Elrond climbing the nearest stairs, brought a halt to conversations, but only for a moment.

“ _[Alima arin](Good%20Morning), _ Elrond.” Bilbo and Glorfindel said, almost simultaneously.

“Good morning, Bilbo, Glorfindel.” The elf joined them at the table, hip-shunting Glorfindel along the bench-seat to make a space for himself, causing a few sniggers from the younger hobbits. As he stole a piece of toast from Glorfindel’s plate, he spoke. “I put the tubes in my study and I’ve asked Mithrandir and Curnunír to put a spell on them, so that only you or someone of your choice can open them, we wouldn’t want them opened at the wrong time, would we?”

“No, we wouldn’t. Thank you, Elrond, I haven’t had a chance to think about any of that yet. What about Telovar and Teldariel?”

“They’re happy for you and the dwarrow to use the forges, any time you like. You know where they are?” When Bilbo nodded, he kept going. “You’re going to need supplies to take with you, so I’m sending out hunters, one group to the north and a second to the south, they’ll bring in whatever game is available. I’ll leave you to check with the kitchens later and I’ve spoken with the  _[envinyatá](healers)_ , they’re not concerned when you get there.” He paused thought for a moment, munching on his stolen toast. “What else… Oh, yes, the White Council are hoping that you and the other hobbits might show them your other forms.”

“I’ll have to talk to the lads, about that. They saw first hand, the result of Saruman’s decision…” Bilbo sighed.

“Yes… that was… unexpected. What you told us last night? It… changed him, Bilbo. I haven’t seen him doubt himself in… well, in centuries, if ever. The Valar have directed him to stay here in Rivendell until the _[Minë Corma](One%20Ring)_ is no longer an issue, then he’s to Sail West.” Elrond sighed. “I’m thankful we were told of this now and not at some point in the future. If we’d called a meeting of the White Council later, he might not have been able to get through the _[Tir-Réna](Guard-Border)_.”

“True… Oh, my.” Bilbo stuttered.

“What?” Elrond asked.

“What’s a _[Tir-Réna](Guard-Border)_? Bilbo? Elrond?” Frodo asked. “I don’t know those words.”

“That’s because they’re Quenyan, Frodo, not Sindarin.”

“Alright. But what do they mean?”

“ _[Tir-Réna](Guard-Border)_ means Guard-Border. There’s a magical border around Rivendell, it keeps out those with evil in their hearts. Which is why Merry, even in Warg-form, could enter, there’s not a speck of evil in Merry.” Bilbo explained.

Frodo thought about that for a minute or two, head lowered, when he looked up, his eyes were wide and mischief was clear in them. When he spoke his voice was slightly louder than usual and pitched to carry down the table.

“So, if the Rivendell’s magic borders keep out those with evil in their hearts, that's why you said Saruman might not have been able to get through later, the decision he was about to make would change him, let evil into his heart?”

Merry frowned for a moment, then his eyes widened dramatically, while Pippin just frowned… at least, until Merry leant over and whispered in his ear, then his eyes opened wide, too. The two then chattered away at each other in Green Tongue, Bilbo and Frodo too far away to hear clearly.

“Yes, Frodo, that’s it, exactly.”

“Right. So… he’ll be staying here, then.”

“He will. I think he’ll spend a lot of time in the Valar’s Garden, he needs their calm, their… their  _[rainë](peace)_ , their  _[almë](Blessing)._ I hope it’s enough.” Elrond sighed and dropped his head. “It’s shaken him… to the core.”

“Elrond, you can’t fall to despair, he’s a Maia, he’ll come through this, it might take a while, it might take Sailing, but he will regain his confidence. But… I am glad that the arrogance is gone, he’ll find more people want to know him, without the arrogance.” Bilbo said.

Elrond threw his head back in laughter, trust a hobbit to get right to the heart of the matter. Social creatures, were hobbits.

“Hobbits.” He continued to laugh as he climbed from the bench and left the balcony.

Bilbo watched him leave, he shook his head in exasperation. Elves. He turned to Thorin and once he’d gained the dwarf’s attention he spoke.

“Thorin? What are you and your dwarrow going to do, today?”

“I’m not real sure, Bilbo. I mean, we have to see to our equipment, wash clothes, clean weapons, do repairs, but… we’ve got time for that. especially if we aren’t to leave until the… 22nd did you say?” Bilbo nods. “Right. The 22nd. So if we’re not leaving until then, we’ve plenty of time to see to cleaning and repairs. I’d like to visit the forges if possible, Kíli said he wants to get started on a Bead for you. And I’d like to make a [Thunbu](Skirmish) Bead for defeating the trolls, I want each of us to have one, as we all had a part in that endeavour. Yes, even Merry, Sam and Posy-dear had their part, they kept our gear and the ponies safe, they completed their part in our task, admirably. Bilbo? Will you and the hobbit’s were a bead?”

“We will, but… none of us, but Posy-dear, have hair long enough for a braid, let alone a braid and Bead. I mean, look… Kíli put this in yesterday and already it’s coming out. My hair’s just not long enough, yet. I just don’t know how we’re going to keep them in for any length of time.”

“Ah… Let me think on it. But, if we can work out a way, you’ll wear [Thunbu](Skirmish) Bead?”

“Yes, Thorin, we will.” Bilbo assured him. “So forges first for you, Fíli, Kíli, Posy-dear and I? Frodo, what are you and the lads up to, today?”

“Well, we thought we’d come see Telovar and Teldariel, none of us are quite happy with the hilts on our swords, they don’t feel right, so we thought… we’d ask if they could fix that for us. Oh and Sam wants to raid the herb-stores and the kitchen.”

“Ori is going to go see Elrond, he’s got a commission from him for a coloured portrait.” Nori entered the conversation.

“Really? When did that happen?” Bilbo asked.

“After Elrond brought you back from meeting with the Valar. You went to sleep within seconds and Elrond stayed for a few minutes.” Nori said.

“Erestor is coming to fetch Balin, Gloín and Dori. Between the four of them they should be able to track down the origins of the few unidentified blades. Óin wants to speak to the elf-healers, see if there’s any information on how to treat hobbits, just in case. Bombur will go with Sam, he wants the recipe for some of the sweets we had last night and Bifur, Bofur and Dwalin will join us at the forges.” Thorin continued.

“Alright then. That’s today sorted… well, today and maybe, the next few days.”

 

Supper that night was a quiet affair. Bilbo was tired, Posy-dear just wanted to snooze, Kíli had burnt fingers, as did Fíli, Thorin’s head ached from yelling at his nephews, Gloín and Dwalin’s ribs hurt from laughing at Thorin. Balin and Ori were in raptures over Rivendell’s library, Nori and Dori were happy to see Ori smiling. Bifur, Bofur and Bombur were chatting about getting the ingredients for some recipe Bombur was given. Óin was muttering to himself about the lack of illnesses that hobbit can contract, not being fair. Sam, Frodo and Frerin were grinning and chattering about the new hilts that Telovar was going to put on their swords and Merry and Pippin were debating the merits of showing their other forms to the White Council the next day.

Just before people started wandering off to prepare for bed, Thorin stood and called for attention.

“At breakfast, I asked Bilbo if our hobbits would were a [Thunbu](Skirmish) Bead and while he felt they would, their hair is just too short for a braid and bead. It would keep coming out. I thought about this and talked to Teldariel and we’ve come to a solution, well, Teldariel did.” He held up a handful of colourful metal ribbons. “She told me tales of warriors wearing their family colours as metallic ribbons in their hair, she said that they have techniques for colouring and making the ribbon slightly abrasive so that it won’t slide out of the wearer’s hair. We discussed it with Elrond and Gandalf and the four of us, decided that colour wasn’t important, as long as it was visible in the wearer’s hair. Telovar and Teldariel gave me a large selection of ribbons and will also provide us with more to take with us. Teldariel showed me the manner in which they are incorporated into the hair and how to secure, remove and replace them.” He stepped away from the table and pulled a seat with him.

“I would like to offer to each of you, the Braid and a Bead for a [Thunbu](Skirmish), for the Company’s defeat of the Trolls. Now, Merry, just wait. You, Sam and Posy-dear weren’t there, it’s true, but you did take part in the preparations and you three, alone, were responsible for getting our gear and our ponies to safety, allowing those who did stay, to concentrate on the task at hand. We, every one of us, have earned these Braids and Beads.” He grinned as the expression of disbelief on Merry’s face changed to joy. “So, who wants to go first?” The entire group, the Company, Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel and Erestor, all laughed good naturedly as Pippin jumped to his feet, waving an arm about.

“Me… me, please?” He cried.

“Come sit down, here, Pippin.” Thorin patted the back of the chair.

Pippin scurried around the table and almost leapt onto the chair, he sat barely breathing while Thorin gently and with great attention to detail, wove a braid into his hair, using three bright yellow ribbons, he tied it off by forming a flower-shaped bow at the end of the Braid.

Erestor watched and when Thorin was about halfway through Pip’s Braid, he elf went into the chambers he shared with Glorfindel and returned with a free-standing mirror, he placed it on a small side table where each person could go to see what their Braid looked like.

It took Thorin a half hour, to Braid Beads into the hair of the six hobbits, Bilbo was the last to get his Bead and Braid, he was still sitting on the chair when Kíli stepped forward.

“Bilbo Baggins.” He started formally. “Yesterday morning I asked for permission to Court you, but as I had no Courting Bead prepared, you allowed me to braid your hair and simply tie it off with one of my personal hair clasps. I have spent the day crafting a Bead worthy of what you mean to me and I would use the ribbons Telovar gave Thorin to place a Courting Braid in your hair and bind it with my Bead. This is usually a private moment but… I know that each person here, has importance to you, as they do to me, so I would ask that they be present. Will you allow this?” The youngest Prince of Erebor asked.

“Kíli, my [Mudtu Bassul](Hear%20Bond), of course they can stay. They are our family, now.” Bilbo smiled softly at his dwarf.

Kíli approached and touched his forehead to Thorin’s for few seconds, before turning to Bilbo. He bent and did the same to Bilbo and taking a deep breath, he stood and Thorin handed him three strands of ribbon, one Durin blue, one sky blue and one of pale blue with Mithril edgings. The last made a few of the dwarrow present catch their breaths, but Kíli was focused on getting his Braid and Bead in his Heart Bond’s hair, when he finished, he stood and just looked at it. Bilbo finally stood and grabbed Kíli’s hand, he pushed the dwarf until he was sitting on that same chair.

“Kíli, son of Víli, Prince of Erebor, I have agreed to our Courting and I wear a Bead and Braid of your making. Will you permit me to give you the same?” Bilbo wasn’t as formal as Kíli had been, but he felt that, given that Kíli was the one who’d instigated their Courtship, that it was alright to be a little softer. And given Kíli’s smile, he was right.

“Bilbo, I would be honoured to wear your Braid and Bead. Will you allow me to view it, first, simply to see it?” It could be classed as a doubt of his skill, but the eagerness of the young prince belied this.

“Certainly, Kíli.” Bilbo gently handed the bead to Kíli, who drew in a sharp breath as it touched his palm. Bright shining Mithril, the Bead was long, nearly an inch long and as Kíli studied it further, he realised that it wasn’t just a Bead it was a clasp as well. A hinge ran down one side of it with an almost invisible seam on the other, the slightly flattened surface was delicately etched with two images, on one side was a depiction of Bag End's front doorway, but the other was a detailed engraving of what Kíli assumed to be Erebor, but there were differences from any image he knew. Differences that confused him.

“Bilbo? This is spectacular. May I show [Irak'Adad Thorin](Uncle%20Thorin)?”

“You may.” Bilbo had a pretty good idea why Kíli had asked. “I hold no concerns for my skill, you may show it to any who would view it.” He added. This was unprecedented, but as Bilbo wasn’t a dwarf there had to be allowances made.

If Thorin ever needed proof of Bilbo’s restoration, he had only to look at the Bead the hobbit had crafted for Kíli, the image of Erebor had dulled in Thorin’s mind, but seeing the Bead and it’s etching? Long forgotten details were remembered, the two statues of Mahal at the Gates of Erebor, he’d forgotten that they stared out from the Gates but also from each other. He’d forgotten that from Dale, the road to Erebor meandered like a stream. He’d forgotten that the battlements above the gate were in three separate levels and that the central level had five open areas, two of them more recessed than the others. But the great crumbled hole where the Gates should have been? That he had not forgotten, it was exactly as he remembered the last sight of his home to be.

“This truly is Erebor, the Erebor we fled. You have a remarkably deft hand at etching, Master Baggins. This would be a Master’s work if you were to submit it, but I can already see that a Master’s Bead means far less to you than the pleasure of seeing your Bead in my nephew’s hair.” Thorin stated, knowing he spoke the truth.

Of all those present only Thorin, Frerin, Balin, Bofur and Dori were born in Erebor, and only Thorin and Frerin were old enough to remember it. While all the dwarrow had grown up on tales of the Lonely Mountain, only five of them had ever seen it and three of them had been less than ten years of age when the Dragon struck.

Frerin and Fíli both looked at the Bead in Kíli’s hand and shook their heads.

“I may be a gem-smith, but I have never seen etchings this fine.” Frerin said.

“Nor I.” Added Fíli. “I am a Master Silversmith, but this? I have never been able to produce etchings this fine, few metals can hold such sharp lines and I've never even heard of someone who can etch so delicately. This truly  ** _is_** a Master’s work. I’d like to talk to you about learning to work Mithril, but later, not now.”

“Thank you, Frerin, Fíli. I am happy with the end result. When we reach Erebor, I would be happy to pass along anything I may know about working with Mithril, once we reach Erebor.”

The Bead, carried by Kíli – it was the height of bad etiquette to allow anyone else to touch a Court but those participating in a Courtship – was shown to each person on the balcony. Dwarrow, hobbit and elf, all who looked at it, saw the love, devotion and determination that went into it’s crafting. When he returned to Bilbo’s side and the chair, Kíli was almost wriggling with joy. Gently Bilbo took the Bead from him and at Thorin’s request he, too, used strands of metal ribbon, the same three colours that Kíli had used, Bilbo now braided into his Heart Bond’s dark chocolate locks.

Finished he tugged Kíli to his feet and over to his family. It took only seconds before Bilbo and Kíli were the centre of a giant dwarf-hobbit huddle. It was over two hundred years since Durin’s Folk last saw the Courtship of a Prince, they were allowed to be emotional. Just for a few minutes.

 

 

Khuzdul = (K)                       Quenyan = (Q)

 

 _Sercë’h_ _fatanyu_ = bloody hell (Q)

 _enda v_ _ér_ _ë_ = Heart Bond (Q)

Astar = loyalty (Q)

Anwar = truth (Q)

Evil Slayer = olca-nehtar (Q)

Alima arin = good morning (Q)

Baknu = Morning (K)

 _tailë rótas_ = extension tubes (Q)

“ _Vi níra nor-etelyë matil imi Eryn Galen._ = We will run out of food in Mirkwood. (Q)

Ka-ammâ amruz ikh-khûthuz?... Mila? = Can we keep the elf? Please? (K)

Mênu-ka azur hu ra ahu yasthûn mahmanakhi Erebor, ubdaz. = You can ask he and his husband to visit Erebor, later. (K)

Envinyatá = healers (Q)

Minë Corma = One Ring (Q)

Tir-Réna = Guard-Border (Q)

Cánë = valour (Q)

Almë = blessing (Q)

Thunbu Bead = Skimish Bead (K)


	18. Clearing the Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparring session  
> Hot Pools  
> Sneezing  
> Thorin gets a lesson in what's to come  
> Sam makes a decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits - 7-Sept

The Twins watched Bilbo and the other hobbits in their sparring session. While they might be small, they were fast, fast and agile. They bobbed and ducked and weaved and easily evaded the slower moving dwarrow. It was soon too much for Elladan, he couldn’t stand to see a skill go to waste and the hobbits weren’t challenged by their dwarrow.

He stepped forward and with a not-so-subtle sweep, knocked a dwarf from his feet, not taking any notice of which dwarf it was, taking his place and trading blows with Bilbo. Within seconds he was working a lot harder than he’d though it possible, Bilbo’s skill with his movements drove Elladan hard. They twisted and turned, thrust and blocked, parried and swung, the faster they went, the bigger the smile on the hobbit’s face, finally Elladan stepped back and sheathed his blade.

“That was grand, Elladan. Thank you. Elrohir? Do you want to spar?”

“I’d like to, but I can’t, not yet. Adar hasn’t cleared me for sparring, yet.” He slid the long hem of his robes aside, to expose a lightly bandaged knee. “I twisted it badly a week ago and while it’s fine for walking, I’m not allowed on the training grounds yet.” He sulked.

“Well, we’ll be here for almost another three weeks, you’ll be cleared by then, surely.” Bilbo grinned.

“I hope so.” The elf pouted a little.

Glorfindel had watched the group closely for a while, before leaving for a few minutes, he re-joined, now and settling himself down on a bench, he spoke.

“Bilbo? Would you join me?” he patted the bench beside him.

“Of course, Glorfindel.”

The two sat quietly and watched as Dwalin basically hammered both Fíli and Kíli into dwarf-shaped mush, when he finished they were barely able to stand, their legs and arms all atremble. Merry and Pippin paused in their own bout, to drag the pair off the training ground and drop them in front of Bilbo and Glorfindel, both dwarrow falling to their sides and sighing in relief. Kíli reached a shaking hand out and it just flopped across one of Bilbo’s fuzzy feet, he didn’t have the energy for more.

“Give them ten minutes to rest and I’ll help you get them to the hot pools, they’ll feel better for a soak.” Glorfindel offered.

“Oh, thank you. That would be grand.” Bilbo murmured quietly. Both dwarrow heaved another sighed and seemed to collapse in a boneless heap.

“While we wait, I have something to discuss with you.” The elf continued.

“Me?”

“You. I watched your sparring session and I noticed that while you move beautifully, you seem to have a few issues with your sword, I don’t know if it’s the weight of it or the length of it. But whatever it is, I want to help you fix it… May I see your sword?” In elven culture this was a bit touchy, some elves wouldn’t even consider letting another person handle their blades and Glorfindel had no idea how Bilbo would react to this request.

“If you want.” Obviously Bilbo had no great attachment to the blade and once he handed to the elf, it was clear why. The blade might been forged by elves but it was a blind forge, a generic blade. Yes, the shape was distinctive, but that was the only positive.

“Why did you choose this blade, Bilbo? Is there any reason?” he asked.

“I’m not as strong as the others, for all that I’m taller than Frodo or Sam, I’m not as strong as them and this seemed to be the lightest of the blades we had access to.”

“No other reason?” That may not be the best reason for choosing a swords, but obviously, it was a relevant one.

“No.” The hobbit huffed.

“Well, I was going to offer to modify the sword for you, but really? I think we’re better off making you a completely new one and that is best left to Telovar. I think we should get these pair of dwarrow of yours into some hot water, call Telovar over and design a new sword, specifically for you. How does that sound?”

Before Bilbo could answer, Kíli did.

“That sounds fine, Glorfindel, every time we spar, Bilbo does great, but he favours his wrist for hours after. Fíli and I were talking about it last night, but I forgot all about it until you mentioned it…. And hot water sounds heavenly, too. But I don’t think I can move.” The young dwarf moaned.

“Not really an issue, Kíli.” Glorfindel reached down and grasped both Kíli and Fíli by the upper arm, he gently pulled and slowly the two dwarrow rose to their feet. They both looked wrung out, Dwalin had pushed them **_very_** hard, the guard captain had a smug grin on his face as Glorfindel gently manhandled the two princes away from the training grounds. Bilbo looked on as they got moving, then he darted off to speak to Telovar and fetch them some clean clothes, re-joining them as quickly as possible.

They crossed a few bridges and entered a large screened in area, steam wrapping around them as they neared the pool surrounded by flagstones and benches. As they’d walked, stiffened muscles has begun to loosen and by the time they’d crossed the last bridge, Fíli and Kíli were walking without support. They flopped down on a bench and began the process of removing clothes, Bilbo unashamedly watching Kíli, who went bright red when he realised he was the centre of the hobbit’s attention, Fíli was no help either, all he did was laugh and when Kíli was naked, grabbed him and shoved him into the water.

Kíli came up spluttering but quickly lost any interest in breathing when he saw Bilbo starting to strip off. Travelling with them for more than a month and shifting on a regular basis, had taken any excess softness from the hobbit’s frame, leaving him with firm lines. He watched avidly… until Fíli splashed water in his face and distracted him. In a way he was glad for that distraction, they were in public after all and at this stage of their Courtship, time alone was a no-no and a lack of clothes was seriously frowned upon. Them being in public baths, was the only exception.

Kíli chased Fíli around the pool until they both ran out of energy and air, then the four settled in one of the pool’s branches, Bilbo and Glorfindel on one side of the smaller soaking pond and Fíli and Kíli on the other. Within minutes Telovar joined them and was sitting on the flagstones, his feet in the water, a sketchbook on a frame over his lap. His hand flew as he drew, shapes started and abandoned, other completed and waiting on Bilbo’s impression.

“I like this one and a wrist brace with it, too please, Telovar. I’d like to avoid any more wrist strains. Maybe something that looks more like gauntlets, something that will blend well with our current armour.” Bilbo added, after he’d chosen a design. Fíli and Kíli looked at his choice of design and shook their heads, only a hobbit would want something that looked as odd as that.

Before anything more could be said on the subject, Fíli started sneezing, when he hadn’t stopped after a few minutes, Bilbo called an end to their pool time. At Glorfindel and Bilbo’s direction, Kíli got Fíli out of the water, dried and bundled him up in the clothes Bilbo had brought for them, from there, the four headed back to the Company’s suite and tucked Fíli into a bed and securely wrapped him in sun-warmed blankets. Bilbo dashed off to the kitchens and spoke to the elven cooks, he returned with a jug of steaming liquid, which he proceeded to bully Fíli into drinking a glass of.

When the rest of the Company showed up, in dribs and drabs, Ori was sent to fetch Óin, while Nori was sent after Thorin, who was sitting with Posy-dear for the day. The brothers entered the room having completed their respective errands and settled on a chaise, across the room from the bed that Glorfindel and Kíli had manhandled into a position to catch the afternoon sun. Óin and Thorin, dragging a puzzled Posy-dear behind him, were hot on the Ri brother’s heels, they broke apart, Óin going to Bilbo’s side while Thorin went to his nephews. Two very similar conversations happened at the same time.

“Bilbo? Wha’s wrong with ‘im? What have ya given ‘im?” From Óin.

“Fíli? What’s wrong, Irakdashat? Nori said Bilbo was calling for Óin.” Thorin asked, finally letting go of Posy-dear’s hand, but only to reach for Fíli’s, he tenderly held the sneezing dwarf’s fingers.

“He started sneezing, Uncle and wouldn’t stop. Bilbo and Glorfindel brought him here and we moved the bed. We bundled him up as best we could, uncle, but he’s still sneezing and he’s starting sniffling, too.” Kíli answered for a, still sneezing and sniffling, Fíli.

“He started sneezing and when it didn’t stop, we brought him back here, got him into a bed in the sun and I went to the kitchens for the makings of a hot lemon drink. It’s infused with slippery elm and Echinacea, so far he’s had one glass. I’ve got the kitchen making up some restorative poultry soup and Glorfindel offered these.” He held up a small tin. “He makes these lozenges for late night scout patrols, they’re made with slippery elm, Echinacea, sage, marshmallow root and honey to ease the bitterness, they’re supposed to ease the throat and numb it a little. Other than that, we’re just keeping him warm and as quiet as possible. Is there anything else, you can recommend?” Bilbo replied, tuning out Thorin and the lads.

“Hmm… sounds like ya’ve got ‘im in hand. If ya’ve any red pepper, we can make ‘im a honey-pepper drink, it numbs the throat, right quick. We’ll need a cup of boiling water, some honey, Fíli likes sweets, so maybe a bit of it and about a quarter teaspoon of ground red pepper. He doesn’t have to drink it all in one go, but make sure ya stir it every time ya give it to him, as the pepper settles. Oh, and don’t give it to ‘im too hot, it needs to be warm, more than body temperature but not too hot, not like tea or a lemon drink. More like a late night toddy. Alrigh’?” Óin, too, was tuning out Thorin’s repeated demands for answers.

“I can do that.” Bilbo replied.

“Ya make that up, Bilbo, I’ll check Fíli over and give Thorin a report. But Bilbo? I’m not dealing with Fíli **_and_** Thorin, ya get one an’ I’ll deal with the other, but not both. Not again.” Óin was adamant.

“Are they that bad?” Bilbo asked.

“Ask me again ina couple of days.” Óin muttered.

“Right then… Uh… Fíli’s gonna need you the most. At least he’s got a reason for being a nuisance.”

“A reason… yes, I s’pose ‘e does. Alright. I’ll take Fíli and ya get Thorin. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Bilbo and Óin nodded. “I’ll get on that honey-pepper drink.”

“Ya do that and I’ll check ma patient over.” Óin patted Bilbo on the shoulder and turned back to the room

“Óin-” Thorin started.

“Thorin? Come give me a hand with this.” Bilbo grabbed Thorin’s arm and yanked him from the room.

“But Bilbo? I should-”

“-give me a hand? Oh, that would be grand, Thorin. This way.” Bilbo allowed a little of his warg voice out, just enough to catch Thorin’s attention.

“But…”

“Thorin. Let Óin do his job. Now, come with me. Kíli!” Bilbo called his dwarf.

“Bilbo?”

“I’m taking Thorin with me, we’ll be in the kitchens, alright? You can stay with Fíli, [inrêd mudtu](dear%20heart). When we get back, Thorin and I will want a report, from you, not Óin, on how Fíli’s feeling. [Khaifu](touch%20\(press%20of%20foreheads\))?”

Kíli leapt across the room and hugged Bilbo, he pressed his forehead to the hobbit’s and then to his uncle’s.

“Yes, Bilbo. Thank you.” Kíli gave a small grin, much calmer now, but when Fíli sneezed again, Kíli was back at his side before he’d had a chance to reach for a handkerchief.

Thorin reluctantly followed Bilbo out of the suite and down the hall.

“What was that about?” The dwarf growled.

“That? That was Óin wanting you out of the room and me trying not embarrassing you, Fíli or Kíli, by saying it out loud.”

“What? Why would Óin want me out of the room? Fíli’s my nephew.” Thorin was not a happy dwarf.

“Thorin, you might be their uncle, but you act more like their father. Now, that’s not a bad thing, but no parent should be present when their child is being treated by a healer. It only stresses the child, the parent **_and_** the healer.” He paused. “Well, not unless the child is too young to tell the healer what the problem is… Besides, Óin implied that when one of the boys are sick or injured, you’re a pain in the ass.”

“A pain the… [idmên Óin](bloody%20%C3%93in). I’m not.”

Bilbo just looked at Thorin with a raised eyebrow. Thorin held his eyes for a few steps, then sighed.

“Hmf… I don’t like seeing them ill, alright? It makes me feel… helpless. I can’t hit anything, I can’t order anyone, I can’t make something… I can’t do anything to **_help_**.” Thorin growled his frustration filling his voice.

“Oh, now, that’s not right. You **_can_** hit something… it won’t help Fíli, but it might help you. You **_can_** order Óin to see to him and you **_can_** make something… a drink that will ease his throat. You **_can_** help. But the best thing you can do is **_listen_** to him. If he wants company, sit and talk with him, if he wants to sleep, stay nearby and work on something quiet, if he wants contact, hold him. He’s not a child. Yes, he might be young, but he’s **_not_** a child, don’t treat him like one.”

Thorin listened to Bilbo and heard a lot more than what the hobbit actually said. He heard, of late nights sitting with a sick Frodo, he heard of frustration, he heard of anger, he heard of understandings reached, he heard of love, he heard of a parent’s joy. It reminded him that Bilbo wasn’t what he seemed, it reminded him that the hobbit had lived a life alone, without his Heart Bond, he mourned but still wouldn’t leave a child without love. It reminded him of his sister, Dís, she still felt the loss of Víli, but she had never let Fíli and Kíli, think for a single second that their father had not loved them and she told them stories of him. She would not let him be forgotten and neither would Thorin, which is why Kíli was allowed to train as an archer and why Fíli used two falchions, these were Víli’s weapons of choice.

“Hmm… alright… So? What was that with Kíli? Why would we want him to give us a report on Fíli and not Óin?”

“Oh, we’ll still get one from Óin, but haven’t you noticed? Kíli responds better under stress if he has a set task or goal. If I’d just said ‘stay with your brother and help him’, poor Kíli would be nearly frantic trying to make him better without having a plan of what to do. But telling him I want a report on how Fíli’s feeling, means that he’ll talk to his brother and watch him, he’ll have a clear goal in mind, it’s a little like in a battle or a fight, the clear goal for the end is to be the one standing, to disarm your opponent. A clear assignment. The main difference between his report and Óin’s? Óin will tell us about the medical **_case_** , the condition and the treatment, the prognosis and the expected timeframe. Whereas Kíli will tell us how **_Fíli_** is feeling, what he wants, whether he wants company, wants to sleep, wants a bath, is hungry, thirsty… that sort of thing.”

“Ah… yes I see. Kíli tends not to think thing through properly.” Thorin agreed.

“And Fíli has always tended to overthink things.” Bilbo added.

They both sighed.

As they approached the kitchens, Elrond entered the hall from a arched door further down the hallway. When they entered the kitchens, Elrond was only a few steps behind them, Bilbo nodded to the elf-lord and the elves in the kitchen and started rummaging through the spices for red pepper.

“Bilbo, Thorin. One the Twins heard Ori telling Óin that young Fíli was ill. Is it serious? Does Óin require assistance?” Elrond asked, quickly.

“No, Elrond, no. It’s nothing serious. I think, and Óin agrees with me, that Fíli’s just got a bit of a head cold, he’ll be fine in a few days.”

“Oh, that’s good… I was coming looking for you, anyway. You haven’t been in and collected the _[tailë rótas](extension%20tubes)_  from my study. Is there any reason that you’re putting it off?”

“No, just wanting to get my tasks all in order. I met with the  _[Envinyatá](healers)_  this morning, regarding Posy-dear, she seems to like Arwen and Nistralá, which is good, as they’re going herb gathering tomorrow, so I thought I’d speak to my dwarrow tonight, about what we can send with the ponies, so we don’t have to carry as much. Then tomorrow while they see about their kits and supplies, I’d deal with Tulkas’ tubes.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

“What are these tubes?” Elrond and Thorin spoke at almost the same time.

Bilbo wasn’t sure that he wanted Thorin to know, it wasn’t that he didn’t trust the dwarf, more that he thought that Thorin might come to rely on the supplies the tubes could carry, but he needed to tell someone, so maybe he could just fudge the number of tubes, a little.

“Tirani? I’m making a pepper drink for Fíli, do you know the ingredients?” The she-elf nodded and reached for a container. “Good. Would you finish it up for me and take it down to Óin, please? I need to have a chat with Thorin and Elrond and it might take a while.”

“Certainly, Master Bilbo.” The elf replied.

“Thank you, dear.” He turned to Thorin and Elrond. “Let’s take this to Elrond’s study, shall we? This isn’t for general consumption.” Without waiting, Bilbo took Thorin’s arm and encouraged him from the kitchen.

Once in Elrond’s study the Lord of Rivendell went to his desk and retrieved a pair of, what appeared to be document tubes.

“Document tubes? Lord Tulkas wants you to take a pair of document tubes?” Thorin asked.

“Not quite.” Bilbo took one from Elrond and cleared a space on a small end table. He opened the tube and began to pull the additional tubes from the central space.

“What in [arazâd](blazes)…? Bilbo, are they… magic?” Thorin was stunned.

“In a way. Tulkas says that Finwë… Finwë lead the elves from Valinor to Middle Earth, by the way… anyway, Finwë used elven magic and fused a barrel-like storage container and an expandable document tube and came up with this. It’s mostly used by travellers, for supplies. Tulkas offered them to us, because…” here Bilbo paused, he realised he hadn’t told Thorin what the Valar had to say about Thranduil.

“But why? Why does he think we will need them?” The dwarf asked.

“Sit down, pleas, Thorin. I need to tell you a little more.” When Thorin was sitting, Bilbo started to pace. “Please understand that things are going to be different this time, the Valar have seen to that. Last time, I remember we snuck out of Rivendell before dawn, we headed north-east, mostly to avoid elven scouts and patrols, Gandalf had warned us that the White Council did not approve of our quest and would seek to stop us… remember… that isn’t happening this time. In the mountains we fell foul of goblins, we sheltered in a cave that dropped us down into a goblin settlement inside the mountain. I don’t know exactly what happened to you there, but I do know that none of you were injure, I wasn’t with you, I fell into a different part of the mountain, a deeper part. I have to do that again, Thorin, there’s something there that I have to fetch, if it stays there, eventually Mordor will get it and I can never let that happen.” Bilbo turned and rested his hands on the back of a chair.

“What is it?” Thorin asked, hesitantly.

“I can’t tell you that Thorin. I can’t. Once I have it… maybe. But right now? No… Where was I? Oh, yes. Goblintown. Right… When we got out of the mountain it was late evening and we were found by Orcs.” Something occurred to him. “Thorin? Azog? He’s not dead.”

“ ** _What?!_** But… Azanulbizar? I cut his arm off.”

“You did. But it didn’t kill him. He and his spawn, Bolg, are hunting us, that’s why the Orcs and wargs found us the other day.”

“[Magan, zarl-ê tada rukhz za-ignig-sa Mordor](Damn,%20I%20wish%20that%20demon%20would%20go%20to%20Hell.).” Thorin growled.

“[Kun, ihlik yadi](Yeah,%20same%20here.).” Bilbo grumbled.

“So Azog finds us? Do we kill him?”

“Not then, no, that won’t happen until Erebor. Thanks to Gandalf we get out of there, but I’m the only one left, with a pack.”

“So… no supplies?”

“No supplies. We made our way to a place of… safety, a skin-changer named Beorn lives between the Anduin River and Mirkwood. He gave us packs and supplies, but he doesn’t eat meat, nor does he allow hunting on his lands. What he gave us didn’t last long and by the time we were in the middle of Mirkwood, we were out of food and water.” He took a breath, knowing this was the bit that Thorin was going to react the worst to. “Thranduil sent a squad of guards to arrest us and you dwarrow spent time in his cells-”

Thorin erupted with a growl and began swearing in Khuzdul violently. Bilbo let him. The hobbit walked over to a cupboard and opened it, he filled tumblers with an amber liquid and handed one to Elrond and a second to a still swearing Thorin. The dwarf paused in his tirade to swallow the liquor in one go and then spent a minute gasping for breath.

“What was that?” He gasped hoarsely.

“Fire whiskey. I needed you to stop, Thorin. And now I **_need_** you to listen. Yes, Thranduil abandoned you and your dwarrow. But don’t degrade yourself to his level, you’re better than that. Leave him to the Valar. The Ladies have him in hand, he has been suffering ever since he turned away from you and unless he does something very impressive, he’s going to be suffering for centuries to come.” Bilbo urged his friend.

There was silence for a minute while Thorin thought that through.

“Centuries, huh?” Thorin said quietly.

“Yes. Nienna, Estë and Varda are seeing to his punishment. Irmo will send both Thranduil and his son, Legolas, dreams of what will happen if Erebor is not reclaimed. Legolas is not like his father, Thorin, he will come to be one of Frodo’s greatest allies… along with Gloín’s son Gimli. If we can get Legolas to work with us, Thranduil will never be an issue, not ever. If Legolas likes a person, Thranduil tends leaves them alone. Now, Irmo said you have to give Thranduil back the White Ge-…whoa, **_stop!_**... Irmo said they were to crown the statue of Legolas’ mother, but Thrór didn’t like the design and then he fell to Gold Sickness.” Bilbo put a stop to Thorin’s explosion before it could start. “If Thranduil has the Gems, he has no reason, no excuse that the Valar will tolerate, for hindering us. He may never help us and to be quite honest, I don’t want him to, if he does, there’s likely to be conditions and we don’t need that.”

“No, you don’t.” Elrond entered the conversation. “I think I shall send Glorfindel and Erestor to Mirkwood. I’m sure Glorfindel and Erestor can convince Thranduil to sit back and not interfere. If not, well, Glorfindel has always wanted to challenge Thranduil, maybe this is his chance.”

“Elrond. That’s not nice.” Bilbo chided gently.

“Neither is Thranduil, Bilbo. And he’s more than a little afraid of Glorfindel, most elves are. If that’s what it takes to keep him from stopping you, then that’s what we’ll do.” Elrond was stubborn.

“Alright… back to…? What? Where was I?”

“Legolas and Thranduil.” Elrond supplied.

“Um… Let’s stay with Legolas for a bit. He visited me, he and Gimli became shield-brothers… no maybe a bit more than that, but… oh, don’t look at me like that, Thorin Oakenshield. Last time they were both [Tarb-Shahn](Craft-wed%20\(asexual\)), but they’re as close as that will let them be.” He could see Elrond had no idea what he meant, even if Thorin was relieved. “[Tarb-Shahn](Craft-wed%20\(asexual\)%20) are _[yérë-enca](lacking%20sexual%20desires%20\(asexual\))_ , Elrond they never feel the need to share a bed… they will share space with someone, they will share their hearts, but not their bodies.”

“Bilbo!” Elrond was scandalised that the hobbit would talk openly of such things.

“Get used to it, Elrond. Hobbits have no sense of… of… of private decency.” Thorin muttered.

“Oh, knock it off, you two. It’s a fact of life. Like eating, sleeping and thumping stubborn friends with the truth. Gimli and Legolas care about each other greatly… or they will. But they will never marry, not by the traditions of either’s people. If you don’t wish to loose your cousin, you’d better wake up and make Legolas welcome in Erebor, Thorin. Thranduil may love his son, in his own way, but Legolas yearns for more, emotionally not physically, so let’s see that he gets it. But we’re getting away from the subject. Give Legolas the Gems, Thorin, Thranduil won’t see it coming and Legolas will be happy. Good enough?”

“Good enough.” Thorin mumbled. “So, the tubes can hold supplies?”

“They can and I’m going to fill them, but Thorin? I also need you forget about the tubes.”

“What? Why?”

“I want them to be an absolute last resort. When we reach Erebor, there’ll be little or no food available to us, to the Men of Laketown. And-”

“Why should I care about the Men of Laketown?” The dwarf grumbled.

“Because they fought for Erebor and a lot of them died for Erebor, too. But mostly because… you’re a good person, Thorin Oakenshield and they will need your leadership. Bard is a descendant of Girion and it is he, that slays Smaug, but he will look to you to guide him, he has little skill at leading his people, but he has heart, Thorin, a great heart. He is a good Man.”

“We digress, again, Bilbo.” Thorin said.

“[Idmên khuzd](Bloody%20dwarf).” Bilbo muttered, but Thorin only grinned. “Right. If we can manage without using them the supplies in the tubes will feed the people sheltering in Erebor for a bit, particularly when we add whatever we can hunt or gather. If we can avoid using them before then? I would be much happier.”

“How much food can they hold?” the dwarf asked.

“No idea, yet. That’s tomorrow’s task, but there’s a number of tubes, so a fair amount.” Bilbo was not about to let all his cat’s out of his bag, yet. “It depends on how tightly I can pack things into them.”

“Have you decided who’s going to be the other _[colindo](bearer)_?” Elrond asked.

“Colindo?” Thorin put in.

“Bearer, Thorin. I’m not sure, yet, Elrond, at this point, I’m tossing up between Frerin and Sam. I’ll think on it a bit longer. Now, was there anything else we need to cover?” Bilbo wanted to get back to his dwarf and to check on Fíli.

“Uh, let’s see. Tubes, supplies, Laketown, Bard, Legolas, Thranduil, White Gems, Posy-dear, [tarb-shahn](craft-wed) and bearers? Nope, I think that’s it.” Thorin grinned widely.

“[Shubtul-bisnul khuzd](Smart%20ass,%20dwarf.).” Bilbo muttered darkly, heading for the door.

“You’ve got another meeting with the White Council and the Valar tonight.” Elrond put in.

“You and the hobbits are supposed to show them your shifts, remember?” Thorin added, as they left Elrond’s study.

“Oh, joy. That’s it… I’m heading back to Kíli and Fíli, now.” Bilbo continued to mutter under his breath for the rest of the walk back to their suite or rooms. Thorin just grinned, riling the hobbit was fun.

 

As sunset bathed the terrace, Merry and Pippin looked at each other.

“It looks like him, but…”

“Yeah…”

“I don’t think he’s…”

“Good. He did…”

“We won’t let that happen again.

“Not this time.”

Their voices were the barest of whispers and Frerin couldn’t tell which of them said what. Their almost silent conversation continued unbroken, even as Bilbo explained to the White Council about their Gifts in greater detail. The Council asked questions and Bilbo answered what he could and when he couldn’t, Ori wrote the question on a slip paper, the Council could ask the Valar later. Finally Bilbo stood and moved to a cleared area.

“Pippin, Merry? Lads, come on. Sam? You and yes, Frodo, you too. Frerin? Would care to do the descriptive, please?”

“[Kun](Yes)… ah, sorry. Yes, Bilbo, I’m happy to do that.” No, not really, but Bilbo asked and he owed that hobbit so much, this was a small thing and he could do it. He could.

Bilbo was joined by the four male hobbits, Posy-dear staying curled into Fíli and Kíli’s sides. Frerin walked over and stood near the hobbits, but a few feet away from them, he turned to those gathered, the Council, Glorfindel, Erestor, Lindir and Lady Arwen.

“First, let me say, they’re not dangerous… unless you do something threatening, in which case… they are very dangerous.” A small troop of bandits had learnt that the hard way, two days outside Bree.

“There are two terms we use, ‘shift up’ and ‘shift small’. Pippin will go first. Pip, please shift small. We say ‘shift small’, when we are talking about the smaller of their two forms, to ‘shift up’, is to take their much larger form.” Frerin waited while that happened, the twisting of air came as no surprise to him or the other dwarrow, but the elves frowned and squinted, trying to see passed it. Saruman’s eyebrows rose steeply.

“As you can, Pip is a pine martin. Pip... come down from there.” Pippin had sat for barely a second before bounding across the space to a tree and climbing it, little animal just chittered at him and stayed where it was. “Fine…” Frerin grumped. “Merry, you next, please.” Again, there was a twisting, shimmering in the air and when that dissipated, a large white wolf stood in the hobbit’s place, it sat and shook it’s ruff, then looked up the tree and made a growling-whining sound. The pine marten huffed but with a nonchalant air, slid down the tree and scampered over to sit with the wolf.

“Right, Sam? If you please.”

“Yes, Mister Frerin.” No matter how hard they tried, Sam always used ‘Mister’ when talking to, or about, anyone other than Merry and Pippin. But as Sam shifted to his owl form, Thorin came forward and the owl lofted himself into the air until he could land on the dwarf’s shoulder.

“Frodo, your turn.” Frerin, out of habit, put his hand out and when Frodo’s shift was complete the bird of prey flittered up to his wrist, but within seconds, was on his shoulder with it’s beak in his hair.

“Bilbo, you’re next.”

Bilbo leant forward slightly and with a sigh, a very large golden cat took his place.

“Right, then. As I started to say, Pippin is a pine marten, Merry is a white wolf. Sam as you can see, is a Tawny Owl and Frodo, here, is a Black Kestrel.” He paused as something occurred to him, but now wasn’t the time, so he tucked the thought away to ponder later. “Bilbo is a Golden Lynx. These five animals do not naturally co-habitat near each other, only these five are a family, a Nas, so there’s no risk to any of them. But you’re aware that this is not their only shift?” When the Council nodded, he continued. “Good. Now, as I said to the Company before they saw the next shift? Watch the eyes. Pippin has green eyes. Pippin ‘shift up’, please.”

Pippin shook himself and the twisting of air began again. A massive inky black warg took the place of the marten. It leant down and with a wide, wet tongue, licked the wolf, who growled and began it’s own shift, without waiting for Frerin’s direction.

“And there goes Merry.” The dwarf sighed. “Sam, please.” Sam fluttered from Thorin’s shoulder and with another shimmer the air revealed a third warg, not as large as the second warg, but larger than the first, it moved to stand beside Thorin. “Frodo?” It took a few moments but eventually the kestrel released his hair and took flight, a quick loop around the terrace and it came to hover in front of him, the shimmered and a four warg was there, it crouched and whined, nudging the dwarf until Frerin reached up and rubbed the small ears.

“Bilbo, you’re last. You’re always last. Why are you always last?”

The lynx made a coughing, chuckling sound and stood, as it did the air rippled and the largest warg any of the Council had ever seen stood in it's place.

“Pippin is the smallest at 5”8’, Sam is the next at 6”4’, Merry is 7”2’, Frodo is the second largest at 7”6’ and Bilbo is the tallest, at 7”10.” Posy-dear slid out from between the two princes and wandered over to Bilbo, he leant down and she climbed onto his squarish snout, when he lifted his head she stood on his snout and calmly walked up his face and over his head to his neck, she sat and rubbed her face in his fur.

“Warm.” She said. There was a startled silence for a few seconds and then Frerin continued.

“All five of them will carry us, not all at once, of course, we can’t fit three dwarrow on one warg, easily, after all. But if needed, they’d carry as many as possible. Like Bilbo said to Elrond a few days ago? They’re not skin-changers. Skin-changers have only one animal form, whereas the Nas have two. The Nas retain their minds, they are warg-shaped-hobbits, not wargs and most skin-changers revert more to their animal natures, the Nas don’t.”

One by one the hobbits began the shift back into their natural shapes, Bilbo still had Posy-dear on his shoulders when he finally stood on two legs.

“Anything else?”

“No, thank you, Frerin, that’s it. Kíli, would you take Posy-dear, please? I’ve still got one more meeting before the day is over and Fíli looks done in. Why don’t you lot take him back to our rooms and have a think about what things you want to sent with the ponies. I’ll see to the Valar and be back soon.” Bilbo sidled up to Kíli, who held out his arms for Posy-dear to fall into.

Thorin gently herded the Company, including the hobbits, off the terrace and in the direction of their rooms. Bilbo sighed in pleasure as Kíli leant down and touched their foreheads together, the dwarf winked and grinned as he left.

 

When Bilbo stumbled into the suite of rooms assigned to the Company, only Thorin, Óin and Sam were still awake.

“Sam? A quick word while I clean up, please?” He waved goodnight to the pair of dwarrow and headed for the bathing chamber.

“Of course, Mister Bilbo. What wrong?”

“For the first time in ages... nothing, Sam. But I wanted to tell you… I asked Manwë about you and Rosie, Sam.” The other hobbit caught his breath, fear on his face. “Now, Sam, it’s good news. Manwë says, that once the… **_thing_** … is dealt with, he will bring Rosie to you.”

“To me? Why can’t I go back to her?” There was sadness on the face of the gardener.

“Sam… we’re changing the past, by what we’re doing and we’re changing ourselves, by our experiences. If you went back, very quickly you would find that you don’t fit in, anymore, but if Rosie and your little one come to you, they will settle into this time fairly easily.” Bilbo tried to break it to him gently.

“But how does that work, Mister Bilbo? If we’re changing the past, what about the future, the future that we left.”

“It won’t be the same, Sam. Look, in thirty years from now, Primula and Drogo Baggins will have a son, they will name him Frodo. I’ve seen to it that Drogo is my heir, so he will take over Bag End in a few months, when he has his Age-day, that will be enough to ensure that he won’t live beside the Brandywine river, so they’re less likely to go boating, which is how **_our_** Frodo’s parents died. The **_other_** Frodo will grow up in Bag End, he will not inherit the… thing, he will not be forced to carry it halfway across the world, he won’t be stabbed by a Nazgûl, he won’t be stalked by Sméagol and his won’t loose a finger as a result. But… he **_will_** grow up with parents, he will have friends like you and he will, I hope, marry and have a family. Our Frodo… won’t.”

“And the rest of us?”

“Merry and Pippin? The Other Merry and Pippin will be born and get into trouble, just like ours have, but they will grow up without the threat of [Saphta](Saruman) hanging over them. They’ll marry and take on the positions that are their inheritance.”

“And me?” Sam’s voice got quieter with each question.

“You Samwise Gamgee, will always be the same, there’s not a force in heaven or earth strong enough to change your heart. The other Sam, will be born, he will grow, garden, love and marry. He will always have the care of Bag End, my will has seen to that and I’ve left a suggestion with Fortimbras that when that Sam is older, to encourage a marriage with that Rosie Cotton.”

“And here? What happens here?”

“Here? Well, first we get Erebor back from that slug, then we deal with the thing. After that? Your Rosie and little one, the Rosie from our time, will be brought to you, the Valar have promised that, they’ve also promised you a garden, I’m not sure where, yet, but you’ll get one of your own and a life to live in it. After that, it’s up to us. Merry and Pippin will have lives here, too, I’m not sure of where or how, but the Valar assure that it will happen. Once we’ve dealt with the thing.”

Sam thought quietly for a minute, while Bilbo quickly stripped down and rinsed off, towelling dry and dressed. When Bilbo turned back to Sam, the other hobbit stood tall, he was calm and his determination was visible in his eyes.

“Mister Bilbo?”

“Yes, Sam?”

“I want my Rosie back. If I have to carry the thing, myself, all the way there, to get her back, then that’s what will happen. Anything you need me to do, Mister Bilbo, anything that will help, I will do it.”

For the first time Bilbo **_felt_** , not just **_saw_** , the loyalty that Sam gave Frodo and it awed him.

 

 

Khuzdul = (K)              Quenyan = (Q)          Green Tongue (G)

inrêd mudtu = dear heart (K)

khaifu = touch (press of foreheads) (K)

idmên = bloody (K)

 _tailë rótas_ = extension tubes (Q)

 _Envinyatá_ = healers (Q)

Arazâd = blazes (K)

Magan, zarl-ê tada rukhz za-ignig-sa Mordor = damn, I wish that demon would go to hell (K)

Kun, Ihlik Yadi = yes, same here(K)

Tarb Shahn = Craft-wed (asexual) (K)

Yérë-enca = lacking sexual desires (asexual) (Q)

Colindo= bearer (Q)

Shubtul-bisnul khuzd – smart-assed dwarf. (K)

Saphta = Saruman (G)


	19. The Right thing to do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Estel begins to learn  
> A prank gone wrong  
> The Company leaves  
> Posy retreats  
> Estel makes a hard decision  
> The Twins help Estel  
> A knife, a tree and a spider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edits - 7-Sept

It took Telovar almost a week to complete the sword that Bilbo chose, then it was up to Bilbo and the Twins to teach the hobbit how to use it. From that point on, during their stay in Rivendell, Bilbo’s time was spent either in the training arena, in the kitchens or with Posy-dear. Needless to say where Bilbo went, Posy-dear and Kíli went and where Kíli went, Fíli was sure to follow. It was like a little procession, all of them trailing after the golden haired hobbit, but that changed the day their little group enlarged.

 

Bilbo bid good evening to Nistralá as he, Kíli and Fíli arrived to collect the She-hobbit and began to gather Posy-dear’s embroidery up, placing it all in a basket that Fíli took from him. Before he reached the door he was stopped by the  _[envinyata](healers)_.

“Master Baggins? Might I have word, before you leave?” The she-elf asked.

“Of course, my dear.” Bilbo turned to Kíli. “Kíli [mudtu-ê](my%20heart), Fíli, would you give me a minute?”

Kíli just smiled and gathered Posy-dear up onto his shoulders, Fíli at his heels. They went out onto the balcony, to join Estel and Arwen and the two princes listened as she and Arwen told the two dwarrow about what they’d done that day.

“What can I do for you, Nistralá?” Bilbo asked.

“I’m hesitant to ask, but I feel I must. I need help, Master Baggins. With Elrond out on patrol and Gilraen ill, I have been watching over Estel, but with Lindir and Erestor both falling and being injuring, no thanks to the Twins, I just don’t have the time to devote to him that he needs. Arwen has been helping, but I need her healing skills desperately, far more than Estel needs her supervision. And there is no chance that either Elrond or Gilraen would approve of me leaving the lad with the Twins.” The medical attendant explained.

“I should think not. Not that it’s likely that they’ll stay in the valley, what with everyone being so angry at them.” The pranks the pair got up to were conviction of that. This last prank they’d done was a prime example of their lack of forethought, greasing stairs would have serious repercussions and could even have caused a death instead of just injuries. Both elves were in hiding, with Erestor injured, they were not keen to draw the attentions of his husband, Glorfindel was not happy with them and would likely not show much restraint in chastising them. So far there was not a single elf in Rivendell that was not angry at them for this so called ‘prank’, even Arwen had no sympathy and bluntly informed them that they would be wise to take an impromptu hunting trip, she would not cover for them, not this time.

“Indeed.”

“So, the question now is, should I make you ask, or should I just invite Estel to stay with us for the next few days?” The hobbit grinned.

“Personally, Master Baggins, I don’t care either way, I just don’t have the energy. Healing Erestor has drained me.” She saw the look of worry on the hobbit’s face. “Oh, he’ll be fine, a full recovery will take a week or two, but he’ll be back on his feet in a few hours, the shoulder and arm won’t keep in my House of Healing for long, thank goodness. I’ll be glad to see the back of him, tomorrow… him and his  _[venno](husband)_.” The elf sighed, sinking into a chair and resting her head on her arms on the table in front of her.

“Alright then, I’ll take pity on you.” Bilbo patted her gently on the shoulder as he went past. He walked out to the balcony and waited patiently until Posy-dear realised he was there, the little hobbit-lass beamed at him and jumped from Kíli’s shoulders to the railings and from there to the flagstones, running over to Bilbo.

“Bilbo.” She said, her voice light, musical and very soft, little more than a whisper. “Is Erestor going to be alright? He will, won’t he?” She pleaded, her eyes filling with tears.

“Yes, dear. He’s going to be fine. Nistralá says he can go back to his and Glorfindel’s rooms, tomorrow, probably before luncheon, but he’s going to be sore for a few weeks.” The girl’s face lit up and her smile was brilliant. “Now, dear, I need to speak to Arwen and Estel.”

“Yes, Bilbo.” She hugged him and danced back over to Fíli, snuggling into his side, the dwarf’s arm settling around her absently.

“Arwen, Estel. I’ve just had a chat with Nistralá, she says that Erestor will be returning to Glorfindel in the morning, but with Lindir still injured and Gilraen so ill, she needs Arwen here. So, Estel? How would you like to come stay with us until your _[mélamar atar](foster%20father)_  gets back from his patrol?”

The youngster’s face lit up. He liked it when he was allowed to stay with the dwarrow and the hobbits, they were teaching him things that Elladan and Elrohir wouldn’t, or couldn’t. Nori had been teaching him to throw knives, properly that is, Kíli and Frerin were teaching him to use a bow and Bifur was showing him the different ways a bill-spear or a scythe could be used.  _[Atar](father)_  hadn’t approved of that, but [_mamil_ ](mommy)had and even encouraged Fíli to give him lessons with the elf-forged sword that Bilbo was no longer using. Being that he was much the same height as most of the dwarrow, their equipment was fairly much the right size for him to use and while he didn’t have the sheer strength in the arms that the dwarrow did, he wasn’t that far below the hobbits, so using the hobbit’s bows was easier for him than using a dwarrow or elven bow. The two princes took  _[mamil’s](mommy's)_  request seriously and every day now, he had lessons, not just scholarly ones from Erestor, but weapons related ones, too.

He learnt how to hold weapons that were the right size for him, learnt how to stand and move to make the most of each weapon, he learnt how to care for each weapon and the hobbits were teaching him their control dances. It might have only been like this for one week, but Estel was a gifted student with a thirst for knowledge and he was enjoying the lessons. His hand-eye coordination was excellent, far beyond that of a child,  _[mamil](mommy)_  said.

Being allowed to stay with the Company day and night, would be grand. He could practice anytime, Bilbo told the funniest stories, Fíli and Kíli were always up for a game and Bombur usually had something good to eat, cooking.

“Yes, please, Mister Bilbo. I’d like that.” The boy grinned.

“I though you might. Why don’t you go gather up some clothes and head over to our rooms? Don’t forget your weapons, but make sure you bundle them up properly, it wouldn’t do to drop something, you always treat your equipment with respect, lad. Now, take Fíli with you and off you go… Arwen? How long is Elrond on patrol? A week or ten days? How long do we get to keep young Estel to ourselves?” Bilbo asked.

Estel, himself, was so pleased that Bilbo and the Company wanted him, other than Elrond, his family, Erestor and Glorfindel, he knew that not many of the elves of Rivendell wanted him around. It wasn’t that they didn’t like him, but they just didn’t understand that he was growing up, elves grew so much slower than Men. A ten year old Man-child was half grown, but a ten year old elfling was decades away from the same point, sometimes it made him angry that they couldn’t see that he wasn’t a baby anymore, some of the older elves even tried to carry him like they would an elfling and that was not to his liking at all.

But the Company? They were different, they treated him based on his behaviour. If he acted like a brat, he got treated like one, if he acted like a responsible being, that’s how they treated him. He loved it. So much so, that there were times that he wished  _[mamil](mommy)_  had gone to live with dwarrow or hobbits instead, even though Bilbo had told him that hobbits were not as open with their children. He’d been surprised that while a Man-child came of age at 21, a hobbit came of age at 33, a dwarf at 66 and he knew that elves came of age at 100. It was a long slow childhood and he was thankful he was a Man-child.

Fíli gave him a grin as they ran through the corridors to the rooms he shared with  _[mamil](mommy)_  and Nistralá, once there it only took him a few minutes to bundle up a week’s worth of clothes, but Fíli made him stop and pack them neatly, reminding him that clothes still fell under the heading of equipment. He took a few deep breaths before dumping his armload on the bed and beginning to sort and fold it, Fíli brought him a pack and began to gather up his weapons. While many elves resented letting another touch their weapons, Bilbo, Thorin and Glorfindel sat Estel down and told him that this was not necessarily a good thing, particularly as Estel was still growing and would continue to outgrow his weapons for a number of years yet, so getting possessive of them was a little pointless.

Ten minutes after entering his room, Estel had his pack and bedroll ready, his weapons, sorted and carefully bundled up, putting them all on at this late time in the day, just to carry them over to the Company’s rooms and take them off again, was a waste of time, so all the blades were sheathed and laid on a ground cloth and that was rolled up, but his bow was over his shoulder and one dagger was on his belt.

In the Company’s rooms a space was cleared for him beside Posy-dear, the little alcove they would sleep in was slightly separate from the rest of the Company, but was still in the same space. For the next ten days, Estel would revel in the company of the others, he would smile and laugh and play and just be a child again. Arwen and Glorfindel both noted that for the first time, they saw a happy Estel, not just a contented Estel.

 

When Elrond finally returned, Estel begged to stay with the Company and as Elrond listened carefully to Arwen and Glorfindel, this was permitted. The lad fitted into their hearts and lives so easily.

Elrond and Bilbo met and discussed all sorts of things, but Estel never quite figured out exactly what those things were. He would start the day with Bilbo, Kíli and Glorfindel for sword, archery and control dances, then it was time for Erestor and his scholar’s lessons.

Bilbo puzzled him. He would sit himself down beside the hobbit and they would talk about the Shire, or hobbits or dwarrow, someone else would join their conversation and he would get distracted. When he turned around Bilbo would be gone and every time, when he went looking, he would find the hobbit in the kitchens, making something for dessert. Every time. Whenever he spoke up, Kíli or Fíli would say something about how this was why Gandalf wanted the Company to hire Bilbo as a burglar. What was a burglar and why would they need one?

When Bilbo and Thorin told Estel and Posy-dear that the Company would have to leave, there were tears, from both of them. When Bilbo assured them it was only temporary, Posy-dear was happy, but Estel wasn’t convinced. He held his tongue though, just in case he was wrong, but he’d seen the dwarrow and the hobbits packing all their things and while their ponies were yet to leave, they still packed everything. When he cornered Elladan and Elrohir coming out of Arwen’s room, he decided to enlist them, they reluctantly told the Man-child that the Company were leaving and while it **_was_** only temporary, it would still be many months, maybe even a year, before Elrond and Glorfindel would take Posy-dear to them. But they did say that it was unlikely that the Company would be coming back to Rivendell. Estel didn’t like that, but if that was what they believed was the way things had to be, then he’d just have to accept it.

It saddened him, but he would still have Posy-dear for company. He stood at her side and waved as the Company left, he hoped that they would have a trouble free journey.

 

Six hours later, no one in Rivendell was happy. Elrond had told Posy-dear that Bilbo and the Company would be back but not for some weeks, she had been thinking it was a one day errand, not weeks. She was not happy and for the first time since Balsam Maggott grabbed her throat, her full voice returned and there were many that wished it had not with Elrond forced to sedate the hobbit tween. Arwen felt this would have a detrimental effect on the girl and argued against it, but her father and Nistralá were convinced and acted without hesitation.

Estel sat at her bedside for the rest of that day and all the following one. The girl had retreated again, she’d shut out the elves and the only person that she took any notice of at all, was Estel. At dinner that first night, Posy-dear ate nothing and drank nothing, ignoring any attempt to cajole her, but nothing worked and by the second day, Estel was getting worried.

Before dinner the second evening, Estel had overheard Erestor and Glorfindel talking about the path the Company had taken, it was the same path taken when Elrond had taken him to Lothlorien the year before, normally they’d have taken the East-West Road, but a landslide had blocked the pass and so Elrond had taken them by the High Pass over the Misty Mountains east to the Anduin River, from there they sailed down-river to Lothlorien. He listened quietly and most of the adult elves forgot he was there, he liked when this happened, he heard lots of things that no one felt he needed to know, like his birth atar’s death at the bow of an orc and _[mamil’s](mommy's)_  illness and how she was not going to get better. Thankfully, tonight was no different.

“Two days,  _[atar](father)_. Two days. She can’t go much longer, but if we try and force her… I think we’ll loose her. If not physically, then mentally. Bluntly, _[atar](father)_ , she’s not responding and without Bilbo, I am beginning to doubt that she will.” Arwen said.

“We’ll give her another day, Arwen and if she’s not eating by tomorrow night, I’ll deal with it.” Elrond stated.

“ _[Atar](Father)_ …”

Estel listened as the three healers debated Posy-dear’s case, he almost stood and told them, she wasn’t a case, she was a hobbit, but he got distracted by Erestor and Glorfindel. They were also discussing Posy-dear, but they were convinced that without Bilbo there was no hope of getting Posy-dear back to where she was when the Company left. They decided that the next afternoon, instead of a normal scouting patrol, they would go and fetch the Company back.

Estel was worried that they would be too late... and so he took a deep breath and made his own decision.

 

Two hours later he was ready.

He’d spent the time since dinner, getting supplies. The first thing he’d done was creep into the Twin’s room and steal both their [_tailë rótas_ ](extension%20tubes)and their maps then he’d raided the guest kitchens, knowing that all the kitchen help would be sitting down to their own meals, certainly helped. He stuffed all the food he could into the two tubes, grabbed every water-skin he could find, filled them all with fresh water, he'd taken all the dried or cold meats in the kitchen, some herbs and spices, all the _[lembas](travel%20bread)_  bread in the pantries, all the fruit and vegetables left behind and whatever fresh meat was there, too. He made a short stop in the armoury, filled his quiver and grabbed the smallest bow there, he found a second small quiver and filled it with the shorter arrows that the two bows used. The only other things he took from the armoury were a medical kit, a pair of small daggers, hobbit sized daggers and a pair of patrol bedroll kits.

Back in his room, he rolled up a few changes of good clothes, all his training clothes, an oilskin, a ground cloth and along with toiletries, these all went into one of the tubes. His weapons and both quivers went in easily, but getting the bows in was a struggle, he made it but it meant that he’d had to unpack a lot of things first. Finally the tube carrying all his things was done, all he had to do now was go and get Posy-dear and pack her things into the other tube.

He made his way to her room and greeted Nistralá. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from speaking out of turn, but Posy-dear was in the forefront of his mind. He convinced Nistralá to go and have a bath, to relax for a while, he would watch Posy-dear and read to her. Nistralá didn’t doubt his suggestions, why would she? For the past two days they had been united in tending Posy, in trying to get the hobbit to eat and drink.

As Nistralá left, Estel had a moment of doubt, was he doing the right thing? A single glance at Posy-dear and he knew he was. He crossed the room and knelt at her side.

“Posy-dear? Please… please hear me.” He begged. “ _[Atar](father)_  Elrond thinks he can force you into eating and drinking. I know he’s wrong. Posy, please… The healers have plans for you and I don’t like them. Neither do Erestor and Glorfindel, they’re going to go and fetch Bilbo tomorrow night.” Finally there was a reaction from the girl, a flicker of the eyes. “But I think that if we wait for them to go and get him and come back, it’ll be too late.” Estel took a deep breath, what he was planning was bad, really bad. If it went wrong, Elrond,  _[mamil](mommy)_ , Arwen and the Twins would be angry and Posy-dear would be dead, but if it went right? Well… they’d still all be angry, but Posy-dear would be alive and that would be worth it. Right? Right.

“If you want… I will take you to Bilbo. I know the path they’ve taken. I’ve got supplies for both of us… and weapons.” Posy-dear’s eyes opened and she looked at him.

“Why?” She whispered.

“You’re my friend. And I don’t want to loose you.”

“I don’t think I can…” Posy-dear started.

“I’ll help you, all the way. I’ll stay with you. I promise, Posy-dear.” Estel put his hand on his heart as he promised. Posy-dear looked at him for a few seconds, before nodding. “Good. Here, eat these, while I pack your things.” He handed her two hard boiled eggs and an apple.

The lad got to his feet and pulled the tubes out from under his cloak, he left one sit on the end of the bed and the other he opened and started to pull clothes from drawers, carefully folding them and placing them in the hobbit’s pack.

“What about your other things? The box and stuff? Do you want to take them, now?” Estel asked. He rolled blankets from the cupboard and shoved them into the tube, along with her filled pack.

“What is that?” Posy asked around a mouthful of egg.

“This is a _[tailë rota](extension%20tube)_ , an extension tube. I stole two of them off the Twins. They’re used for travelling, I’ve filled all the shelves in them with food and water for us, but there’s enough room for your box and for your doll and her bag, if you want.” The lad offered.

“Yes, please, Estel.” Even just the two eggs made a difference to the hobbit, her voice was stronger and she no longer looked on the verge of collapse.

“Alright. I’ll get them.” The lad stood and crossed the room to the shelves beside the window and as he reached up to get the box a hand darted in the window and grabbed his arm. He froze.

“And just what are you pair up to?” Elladan climbed through the window, closely followed by Elrohir. Posy froze when she heard the elf’s voice, her eyes wide and afraid.

“Um…” Estel trembled. Oh, Nienna, how was he supposed to explain this?

“I think, brother dear, that our littlest brother has had the same idea that we did.” Elrohir replied.

“Same idea?” Estel asked. Did he want to know?

“Yes, little brother, the same idea.” Elrohir confirmed.

“But… I think he’s better prepared than we are, ‘roh.” Elladan added.

“Well, of course he is. We come up with the ideas and he fills in the details. That’s how we work.” Elrohir said.

“Not this time.” Estel said. “This time, you two have to stay out of it.”

“And why should we do that?” Elladan asked pleasantly.

“You two are already in enough trouble and  _[atar](father)_  is still angry at you. Plus, you don’t know which paths the Company planned to take. I do. And your night vision is awful. Your horses don’t trust you at night. You’ll take the wrong trail or fall off the edge of the mountain in the dark, both of you. And lastly? If you stay here, you can cover for us for a few hours. By midday, we’ll be far enough away that no one is likely to catch us before we catch them.” Estel explained.

“He really has thought this through, brother.” Elrohir commented.

“So he has... but so did we. Estel, Posy? We’ll take you tonight, on our horses, part of our patrol is waiting to guide us. When we reach the pass, you can continue on, on foot, that should cut down your walking time significantly.” Elladan offered.

“But you’ll be suspected.” Posy said.

“Nah, not us.” Elrohir argued.

“Nah, we’re not here, tonight. We’re already out on patrol.” Elladan confirmed.

“But Vandir? He’ll know.” Estel objected.

“Yes, he will, but Vandir is involved, too.” Elrohir assured the lad.

“So’s our patrol. They’re worried about Posy, too, we all are. So we talked about it and we decided that we would take action ourselves. Seems you’ve done the same thing. If we work together, we can do this. We will get you as close to the mountains as possible by dawn….” Elladan dropped the big brother act and became the Heir of the Lord of Rivendell. “Aragorn? Do you think you can do this? Really?”

Estel stood tall, he drew his shoulders back and looked Elladan straight in the eye.

“Yes, Elladan. I can. I will see that Posy reaches Bilbo again. I will see that she is safe and well. I will see that she gets to her family. You have my word.” His birth name was used so rarely, that he responded formally.

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other, Elrohir raised an eyebrow and Elladan nodded.

“Very well, let’s do this. Posy? You’ve five minutes to have a wash and change your clothes for travel ones.” Elrohir said.

“Vandir has told Nistralá that he’ll sit with Posy and Estel tonight, to give her a break. He’ll be here in a couple of minutes.” Elladan added reaching for Posy’s box, while Elrohir collected her doll and it’s bag from the shelf.

“You need your weapons, little brother.” Elrohir warned.

“Got them.” Estel picked up the tube from the bed and held it up. “All in here, but for my two boot daggers.”

The Twins’ eyes widened, as they realised what they were looking at.

“Our _[Tailë rotas](extension%20tubes)_.” They both said.

“You took them.” Elladan added.

"Yes." What else could he do but agree?

They quickly added the box, bag and doll to the tubes and encouraged Posy to eat a little more apple and drink some juice, while they rearranged pillows under the blankets on the bed. When they had that done to their satisfaction, Elladan went out the window, he was going to speak with Vandir, this was going to change their plans slightly. Within minutes he was back.

"Estel? Posy? Are you ready?" He asked.

"Yes, Elladan.” The two youngsters answered after looking at each other.

“Fully packed. Food. Meat. Fruit. Vegetables. Fresh and dried, as well as herbs, spices, water and lembas. All I could get from the guest pantries. My pack, Posy's pack, maps, a medical kit, weapons, bedrolls, oilskins and ground cloths. Anything else you can suggest, brothers?” Estel added.

“Money.” Vandir entered the room. “Here. All of us put some in. Lindir grabbed all the loose coin from Elrond’s study, too. But don’t you think about that. We’re doing the right things, lad. Posy is worth it. Getting her back to Bilbo is… it’s definitely the right thing to do.” Vandir handed not one pouch, but four pouches, to Estel who quickly put two in each of the tubes.

"When you catch up with them, give Bilbo this parcel, tell him, 'it's from Glorfindel and Erestor'. He'll undestand when he opens it." He added a wrapped bundle to Posy-dear's tube, before giving the two youngsters a gentle hug and stepping back.

“Right. That’s it. Let’s get going. See you in a few days, Van.” Elladan said.

Estel swung the strap for one tube over his head and one shoulder and handed the other tube to Posy, who did the same. With no fuss the two smaller beings were hoisted up onto the backs of the Twins and the four went out the window. Posy and Estel held on for their lives, as it was a grim certainty that if they lost their grips, they would fall to their deaths, the drop was that deep. But the Twins climbed with ease and in less time than expected, they were all safely on the ground again. They quietly moved through the night, all four being as quiet and as stealthy as possible, to avoid detection. They reached the stable area and were met by two of Elladan and Elrohir’s patrol and the stable master himself. He hugged Posy and told them that he would swear that Elladan and Elrohir’s patrol had left much earlier in the day. He also gave Posy a dagger, told her she could send it back with Elrond when he visited Erebor, for Thorin’s coronation.

The four horses waited patiently for the two elves, the two Men and the two youngsters. They mounted and left, with Scout Morielan in front, followed by Elladan with Posy, then Elrohir with Estel and lastly Ranger Timlon to ensure that they all stayed on the path.

“Elladan?” Posy whispered when they were about a half hour from Rivendell.

“Yes, Posy?” The elf replied.

“Why did you call Estel by that other name?”

“Ah. When Gilraen first came here, that was his name. Aragorn. But Gilraen and Elrond decided that to protect him, he should have a different name. Aragorn’s father was an important man… or rather, he **_could_** have been an important man, but he chose not to take that path. We hope that one day Aragorn **_will_** take that path and that is why we call him ‘Estel’. Estel means hope in Quenyan and that is what he is… A hope for the future.”

“Then why are you letting him do this?”

“Because he wants to. Because he doing something because it’s the **_right_** thing to do, not just because it’s **_safe_** thing to do. He’s showing the promise of what he can become. That’s all you need to know… for now.” He muttered the last two words under his breath. “Lean back, try and get some rest. You’ll need it.”

The rest of the night passed. Both Estel and Posy slept when they could and Posy continued to nibble away at food every time she woke. The motion of the horses sometimes made sleeping easy and at other times made it harder, but by the time the sun cleared the mountains, they were well rested and ready to leave the elven patrol and start out on foot. Estel had sat in on many of Thorin and Bilbo’s travel discussions and had listened as Erestor and Glorfindel discussed their plans to fetch the hobbit, so he had a fair idea of where they were going and which trails to take.

Estel and Posy watched as the elven patrol mounted and headed west. The two turned looked to the mountains. They were still two days behind the Company in time, but who knew how far they were in actual distance. After talking with Posy at breakfast, Estel knew that even in her weakened condition, Posy was far more accustomed to walking than he was, he hoped that he wouldn’t hold her back too much.

Once the patrol left, they opened out the _[tailë rotas](extension%20tubes)_  and removed all of the weapons available to them. Estel watched as Posy opened her box, the one Bilbo had brought from the shire, she reached into it and pulled out yet more daggers and a wrist bracer. Estel had not seen most of these blades before, two however were familiar, two he had seen almost every day as he trained with the dwarf-princes, but the others? No, they, he had not seen, they were slender, almost like stilettos, with wickedly sharp edges, fitting into tight sheaths. The pair of youngling assessed their selection of weapons before strapping the selected daggers and blades to their legs and arms and sliding quivers to their backs.

Estel was slightly alarmed at how comfortable Posy-dear looked with weapons strapped to her arms and legs, but Posy appeared to take little notice of them and so Estel let it slide from his mind. All but the wrist bracer, that he saw little use for, but after asking Posy about it he watched as she pressed a stud on the edge of the brace just below the thumb, a blade shot forward across the back of Posy’s hand, with her hand held flat the blade protruded about an inch beyond her fingertips, with her hand in a fist, more than three inches of the blade’s surface was exposed. With a twist of another stud, the blade sank back into the brace, leaving no evidence of it’s presence. Estel’s mischievous side emerged, as he imagined the reactions of the Company when they saw Posy’s collection of weaponry.

The sword that Bilbo gave him went in it’s scabbard and sat alongside his quiver on his back, but within minutes, he’d removed it from there and belted it around his waist. It sat better there and felt more manageable. They both had a water-skin and a pouch of fruit and nuts at their waist, plus a few more boiled eggs in Posy’s and they were determined that they would gain ground on the Company, so stops would be short, but frequent. Estel was determined that Posy not over-tire herself, he would call rests every hour, even if only for a few minutes, Posy would need them and Estel wasn’t admitting it, but likely so would he.

Posy spent the morning walking at Estel’s side and by lunch, he had settled into a long loping stride that Posy easily matched. Estel was surprised how easy it was to keep walking in that striding motion, it was only when he dropped it that he tired quickly. Stopping briefly for a full lunch and a toilet break, nearly put the boy off his stride, but when they began to move again, he distracted himself by throwing rocks at trees and trying to best Posy at who can hit the branch the most, which he lost, but eventually it worked and his stride lengthened and became that effortless lope, again.

When they stopped that night, they stopped late. It was already getting dark but neither of them wanted to light a fire, while they both longed for the comfort a fire would bring, they were both afraid of the attention it might attract. They took turns in keeping watch that night and were on the move shortly after first light, the day showing bright and clear. They walked quietly, staying on the trail, many times they spotted signs of the Company, fires and piles of wood, places where boots had crushed plants and in some cases clear prints in the soft earth. When the two finally stopped on the fourth night, they could see a fire in the distance and for a few minutes, both youths contemplated walking through the night to catch their friends, but common sense prevailed.

They were less than a day behind the Company, as a group the Company could only move so fast, whereas Estel and Posy were able to cover more ground because they needed less time to prepare a camp and cook food, a small meal for two took far less time to cook than a large one for 19 stomachs did. That and hobbits were made for walking and apparently so were Estel’s people, the Dúnedain, between them they covered far more ground than the Company and it was possible that the next night would see them surrounded by their friends.

 

The sun had sank nearly an hour ago, but Estel and Posy could hear the distant voices of their friends and they were both determined that tonight they would sleep among them, so they were still on the move. The moon was high and the ground was clear, so they had little trouble following the trail, when the light of the Company’s fire became visible past a pile of rocks, Posy held up a hand and Estel came to a stop.

What was the problem?

Posy silently slid a dagger from her belt and began to move forward, she stopped beside a tree, just out of the fire’s light. She grinned at Estel and whispered in his ear.

“Watch Dwalin. There’s a spider crawling down the tree behind him.”

Estel turned his gaze to the tall bald dwarf. Why was he supposed to watch him? A second later, it was obvious. A dagger flew across the clearing and neatly skewered the spider.

Dwalin reached out and touched the knife in shock, he pulled it out and stood up.

“Where are you? What in Mordor are you doing here?” He growled.

The rest of the dwarrow looked at him in confusion. What was he talking about? Where did the knife come from? Did he know the owner of the knife? What did he know, that they didn’t?

Posy took Estel’s hand and stepped away from the tree and dragged him with her. The Company looked at them in shock, as they crossed the camp to stand in front of Dwalin. Posy held out her hand and looked at Dwalin.

“My knife, please?” She asked.

 

 

 

Khuzdul = (K)                       Quenyan = (Q)          Green Tongue (G)     Sindarin (S)

mudtu-ê = my heart (K)

venno = husband (Q)

mélamar atar = foster father (lit trans – mélamar = Home(emotional sense) (Q)

mamil = mother/mommy (relaxed term) (Q)

 _tailë rotas_ = extension tubes (Q)

 _lambas =_ Way bread (journey bread) (S)


	20. Conspiracies and Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond learns of the conspiracy  
> More hobbits in Rivendell  
> There's more to Posy than meets the eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to know exactly what the Underhills are? It's best to read 'Shadow Of The Shire' by esama  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/2098833/chapters/4574154
> 
> Edited and added to - 7-Sept

“Are they away?” Vandir asked Nistralá, as she tapped softly on the door.

“They?” she asked, trying to open the door.

“Glorfindel and Erestor.” He blocked her from entering the room.

“Oh… oh, yes. About an hour ago. Why?” She assumed he was accidentally braced against the door.

“Good. We need to go see Elrond. Now.” He took hold of her arm and gently but firmly turned her from the door.

“Vandir? What are you doing? I need to check on Posy-dear… and Estel.” She added.

“They’re not here.” His grip on her arm allowed no recourse but to go with him.

“What? Are they at breakfast?” She asked. “Oh, that’s good, I had-”

“No.” He cut her off. “They’re not. By now… they’re well into the mountains… I hope.”

“Vandir? What are you talking about?” Something in how calm he was, scared Nistralá.

“Ah Elrond… There you are. Nistralá tells me Glorfindel and Erestor got away earlier. Did you see them off?”

“Vandir… Good morning. Yes, I did.” The Lord of Rivendell replied.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. Posy and Estel are gone.”

“Gone? Gone where?... What is he talking about, Nistralá?” Elrond asked.

“I’ve no idea, my lord. He wouldn’t let me in the room and then said that Posy-dear and Estel weren’t there. You know as much as I do, my lord.” The she-elf replied.

“Care to explain, Vandir?” Elrond was confused.

“He did what I told him to do, Elrond.” A quiet but hard voice was heard.

“Gilraen? Oh, please, sit down, you mustn’t tire-” Nistralá started to fuss over her patient, only to be met with a dagger at her throat.

“Back off, Nistralá. I’m dying, not brainless. I know my limits.” The Dúnedain woman directed.

“Gilraen?” Elrond asked. “What’s going on?” Rarely did Elrond sound so off balance.

“Vandir and the Twins have done what you should have done immediately.”

Her words wrought a chill of premonition down Elrond’s spine, whatever had happened what going to have far reaching consequences. _**Very**_ far reaching consequences.

“What have they – _**you**_ – done, Gilraen?” Dismay in his voice.

“ ** _We_** have sent Posy-dear to Bilbo.” Vandir told him. “It started out that the Twins would take her to catch up with him and the Company, but we didn’t factor in Estel.”

"Estel?"

“Yes, it seems that all my son needed to step away from his father’s influence… was a friend.” Gilraen added.

“A friend?”

“A friend. When the Twins came to collect Posy-dear, Estel was already there. He’s always been better at planning the pranks than the Twins and this was no different.” The lad’s mother said proudly.

“What do you mean, the Twins? They were out on patrol. How could they have anything to do with… whatever happened. What **_did_** happen?” He held up a hand. “Stop. Please, Gilraen. Let Vandir explain. Please?”

“Right. There were a lot of us were involved in this. Gilraen, Morielan, Timlon, Gidien, Lomas, Torant, Lindir, Arwen, the Twins and myself. We met yesterday, after lunch. Earlier in the morning, I had overheard Glorfindel and Erestor, they were talking about going and fetching Bilbo, if there was no change in Posy’s condition, but when I talked to Arwen, she felt that Posy would not last long enough for Glorfindel to make a return trip to the mountains. Which is why I suggested to you to send the two to Eryn Galen, instead. You’ve no idea how angry they were about that, Elrond, both of them were ready to ignore your orders, until I told they of our plans, late last night.” Vandir sat himself down at the table and pulled a plate towards him. “The rest of us met in Gilraen’s rooms, immediately after I spoke with you, we came up with a plan and set it in motion.”

“And what was your plan?” Elrond’s head hurt, he was so angry.

“Simple really. We had maybe an hour before the Twins were due to leave on patrol, so we worked as fast as we could. Gidien and Lomas would head out on patrol with Timlon, Morielan and the Twins, publicly, but then Timlon, Morielan and the Twins would circle back, as quietly as possible. Torant would hide their horses in the guest tables just in case you walked in his direction. Gilraen got a pack together for Posy and Arwen got a medical kit ready. The idea was that the Twins were to take her and catch up to Bilbo… but we didn’t plan on Estel.” Vandir paused while he munched on some toasted fruit bread.

“Estel had obviously made his own plans and... like the pranks he did with the Twins, he planned meticulously. He stole a pair of _[tailë rotas](extension%20tubes)_  from the Twins’ room and some maps, we’re not sure yet which ones, but only because we don’t know what maps the Twins actually had. He raided the guest kitchen and filled the _[rotas](tubes)_  with food; [_lembas_](way%20bread), fruit, vegetables, meat, herbs, spices and water-skins. Back in his room he took clothes, toiletries, weapons, that sort of thing. After that he went to that armoury, we **_think_** he took a short-bow and a quiver, we **_know_** he took a number of [_sinta-pil_ _ín_](short%20arrows), at least one pair of throwing knives and a pair of patrol bedroll kits. When the Twins entered her room via the window, the one looking over the crystal cascade, he was packing her clothes, box and doll, he’d sent Nistralá to bath and brought food for Posy. Elladan told me he heard Estel beg Posy-dear to hear him, that he swore that he would help her, that he would stay with her all the way. That he knew that trails Bilbo had taken and with the maps he’d taken from the Twins’ room, he knew where to go.”

Elrond groaned. His sons should have known better, when he got his hands on them… the [s _ercë’h_ ](bloody%20horrors)_[nortá](bloody%20horrors)._

“Elladan and Elrohir realised quickly that Posy-dear trusted Estel, where she felt no trust for any adult in Rivendell.” Elrond sighed at Vandir’s words. “They listened to Estel’s reasoning and knew he was right. Elladan come to Gilraen’s room and spoke with Arwen, Gilraen and I, we didn’t like the idea of just Estel and Posy travelling by themselves, but to stop Estel when he’d finally left Arathorn’s shadow? It would have destroyed everything we’ve all worked towards for the last six years, Estel is not his father and we don’t want him to be… but if we stop him when he’s doing the right thing?” Vandir sighed. “No. We decided that we’d let them go, but that the Twins would track them, let them think they’re on their own. If they get into trouble the Twin will be only minutes behind them.”

“But we have to let Estel try. He’s the only one Posy-dear trusts and this is the first time he’s made a decision that has consequences.” Gilraen said.

“You should have come to me. Bilbo trusted me to look after Posy and thanks to you and the Twins, I can’t do that, now.” Elrond sneered.

“But you weren’t looking after her.” Vandir said. “Nistralá and Arwen were. And you ignored Arwen’s advice, you sedated her. Posy was dying. She was giving up. She was Fading. Bilbo and the Company are the only positive thing in her life and you reinforced that be sedating her. You took away her control, Elrond, and to her, that made you as bad as the hobbit that killed her father.”

“You have only proved her right, Elrond. Proved to her that you can’t be trusted. Proved that Bilbo and the Company are the only ones trustworthy.” Gilraen added.

“And what of Estel? He was not a hobbit or a dwarf. He was not a part of their Company.” Elrond argued.

“But he is.” Gilraen corrected. “You gave him to them. You gave him permission to remain with them. As far as Posy-dear was concerned, he is a part of the Company, because you… gave… him… to… them, Elrond.” The Woman’s voice was blunt and hard.

"But he's only ten years old!" Erond cried.

Before anyone could speak further on the matter, a runner arrived.

“My lord Elrond. My name is Herim, I am a ranger assigned to your patrols, I and my squad were rostered for the Trollshaws, my lord. Just before dawn this morning, we found a campsite, sir, there were hobbits. Six of them. My lord? They say that one of them is the Shire’s Thain and another is the Master of Buckland. Sir? They asked me to come ahead, they urgently need to speak with another hobbit named Bilbo Baggins.”

“The Thain? The Master of Buckland? Both?” The runner nodded. “Did they say why they needed to speak with Master Baggins?” What was so important that the Thain **_and_** the Master of Buckland would **_both_** leave the safety of the Shire to seek Bilbo out?

“No, sir. I was not made aware of the reason. Just that it was urgent, sir.” The runner panted.

“Very well. How far out are they?”

“The hobbits move faster than I’d expected, sir. They should be here in an hour, maybe less.”

“Go rest yourself, Hérim, when your squad arrives, they’ll join you, you can return to your assigned area, tomorrow.” He turned to Vandir and Gilraen. “You two... I will deal with later.” Elrond left the dining area and headed for the Garden of the Valar, he needed calm, he needed quiet, he needed… [_vangw_ _ë sa_ ,](blast%20it) he needed the last three nights to not have happened.

When he entered the Garden, he was startled to see Galadriel sitting quite close to the black marble slab that was the medium the Valar used to communicate with those here on Arda. Feeling her mind touch his, he re-ran the conversation that sent him seeking the Garden.

 ** _Oh, Elrond_** _._ As always, her words in his mind, calmed him. **_You cannot say you were not warned, my[yondo ar-very](son%20by%20marriage)_** ** _[ä](son%20by%20marriage). Thorin warned you, as did Erestor and Gilraen. Indeed, your [s](children)_** ** _[én](children) warned you, both your [yond](sons)_** ** _[ó](sons) and your [yend](daughter)_** ** _[ë](daughter). Elrond, even Curun_** ** _ír warned you. How could you not expect your[s](children) ** _[én](children)_**_** ** _to take action? They are their mother’s children and there can be no doubt they have acted as she would have… although… Celebr_** ** _ían would likely have boxed your ears, before she left to exactly what the Twins have done._**

Elrond hung his head. He began to think again, to think about Posy, her emotional wellbeing, not just her physical self and he was ashamed. His children were right, Gilraen was right, Vandir was right. A burst of pride, suddenly spiked in his heart. His sons, both those his by birth and the son of his heart, had done what he would not. They had defended one who could not defend themselves and had rendered assistance to one in need.

**_Now you understand,[ninya-nildo](my%20friend). You must let them grow. They will respect you more for the freedom. Let us hear what these new hobbits have to say. I can always [sanw](send%20a%20mental%20message)_** **_[ë-menta](send%20a%20mental%20message) to my indy_ ** **_ó or Glorfindel and Erestor._ **

“Indeed _[amil](mother)_  of my heart. Will you join me?”

“I think I must.” Galadriel spoke aloud.

He offered her his arm and just as her daughter had once done and as her granddaughter now did, she looped one hand around his upper arm and rested the other hand on his forearm. It brought a bittersweet smile to his face, but also a sense of peace to his heart. He guided them from the Garden and back to the dining area. They had both missed breakfast and while it was getting later, they were having hobbits as guests and if Elrond knew one thing about hobbits, it was that you always made sure there was plenty of food on hand.

 

What was it about hobbits that surprised him so? Elrond wondered. Granted three of the hobbits were fairly much what he expected, but the other three? They appeared average in every way, but they moved just a bit too gracefully, looked a bit too relaxed. Why?

Four of the hobbits stepped back deferring to the other two.

“Greetings, welcome to Rivendell.” Elrond said. “I am Elrond, Lord of Rivendell. This is Galadriel of Lothlorien, mother of my wife. A runner told us of your coming. How can we assist the Shire?”

The older of the hobbits stepped forward.

“Salutations, Elrond of Rivendell.” The hobbit’s voice was deep and soft, but it was a voice accustomed to wielding power. “I am Gorbadoc Brandybuck, Master of Buckland. This is Fortimbras Took, 29th to bear the title of Thain. The others are various family members of ours. My son, Rorimac Brandybuck and Fortimbras’ son, Ferumbras. The other two are cousins of both Fortimbras and Bilbo, Adalgrim and Flambard. We have need to speak with Bilbo, the matter is urgent and… unexpected.”

“Ah… It seems you are a few days too late, Master Brandybuck, Master Took. Bilbo and the dwarrow Company left here three mornings ago.” Elrond’s statement was met not with the groans of dismay he expected, but with one of anger, anger from Gorbadoc directed at Fortimbras, it was met with a look of frustration from the younger hobbit.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Uncle Gorbo, this is as much your fault as it is mine. More, really.” The older hobbit huffed. “If you and my darling grandfather,” the last being said with a sneer, “hadn’t taken sides when Aunt Belladonna and Uncle Bungo started Courting, this wouldn’t have happened. Grandfather was Thain for 72 years, Uncle Isengrim for 10 and Da for 9. I’ve only borne it for **_two years_** and I’ve seen you **_once_** in that time, at Da’s funeral. How in the blazes of Mordor was I supposed to know you didn’t know about the Underhills.” The last sentence was snarled out viciously.

“I know **_what_** the Underhills are, I just don’t know **_who_** they are. If I’d known that Begonia Peachum was an Underhill, I wouldn’t have given Bilbo guardianship of her daughter.” Gorbadoc replied angrily.

“Well, it’s no good asking **_me_** who they are, only Sigismond **_knows_** that.” Fortimbras said tartly. Apparently that was enough to stun Gorbadoc.

“What?”

“ _ **Sigismond**_ is the [zîrant](wise%20one%20\(leader\)) of the Underhills, Uncle Gorbo, _**not**_ me. Until this happened, I had no idea who **_any_** of the Underhills were, let alone that the Peachum’s were Underhills.”

“Oh.” Both hobbits sighed and then frowned as the other hobbits spoke together.

“Bloody grandfather.”

Elrond was confused and felt the need to understand.

“Master Hobbits? What is this about? Why do you need Bilbo so urgently?”

Gorbadoc sighed and waved to Fortimbras.

“You explain, please, I don’t know the histories, Fortim.”

“Right, then.” The Thain cleared his throat. “When the rangers first came west, an agreement was made between them and the, then, Thain. They would protect our borders and we would trade food with them. Over the centuries, there have been few attacks, at least, by those that the rangers would consider as dangerous. But… What is dangerous to a ranger is **_not_** that same as what a **_hobbit_** would consider dangerous. The Underhills are our version of the rangers… sort of.”

“I thought that was the Bounders?” Elrond interrupted.

“Kind of, the Bounders are the official _**Boundary**_ peacekeepers, the Shirrif's the _**internal**_ peacekeepers and the Underhills are the _**unofficial**_ ones. But they don’t really _**keep**_ the peace. Underhills are more… _**final**_. They step in, quietly, and deal with the troublemakers. The Bounders and the Shirrif's do it officially and the Underhills do it… _**unofficially**_. If you get my drift.”

“Hmm… but that still doesn’t explain why you are here. Now, I mean.” Elrond clarified.

“Ah, this is going to take some time to explain.” When Elrond nodded and waved them to the tables, the Thain continued.

“Bilbo sent me a letter, back at the beginning of April. He said that a Baggins cousin from the Long Cleeve region was staying with him to recover from an injury and that if the injury didn’t heal, they would be travelling to seek your advice, a few days later three more lads turned up, supposedly all from the same place. I thought nothing more on the matter until the 25th of April, when I hosted a Bounder from the Long Cleeve region and thought to send reassurances home with him, but the lad informed that there was no one that went by those names in any of the Long Cleeve settlements, other than he. I left for Bag End immediately, I thought the worst, that imposters were forcing Bilbo to house them or at the very least, that they were deluding him. Bilbo bluntly told me that wasn’t the case and that the five of them were, in fact, Restored by Irmo, Tulkas and Manwë. That they were leaving the Shire, for good, that morning and I managed to get him to promise to write and let me know the outcome of their quest.” Fortimbras sat back and gestured to Gorbadoc to continue.

“The Thursday before, just two days earlier, a child was attacked.”

“Posy-dear.” Elrond whispered.

“Aye, Posy Peachum. All because Balsam Maggott got drunk, one too many times. Under the influence, he propositioned, a woman of Men, she rejected him, turns out she wasn’t a whore, but the wife of one of the traders and she was pregnant, but he didn’t know any of that. All he knew is that she spurned his advances, Posy just happened to be the next nearest female, she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Willibald Peachum was wagoneer, a peaceful, law abiding hobbit, he did what he could, but he had none of his late wife’s Underhill training. And Balsam Maggott was younger, fitter and a much stronger hobbit. At the end of the day? Willibald Peachum was dead, Posy had retreated into her own head and Balsam had snapped, something in him had broken, he became a violent hobbit, a danger to all. He tried to attack the Bounders, the healers, a shiriff’s deputy and once brought to Brandy Hall, he tried to attack me. It left me with no options, **_he_** left me with no options.” Gorbadoc sighed.

“What did you do?” Elrond asked almost fearing the answer.

“For the first time in over 800 years, a hobbit was deemed beyond help and was executed. The 28th of April will be a sad day in the Shire for decades to come, a hobbit was executed for murder and the one he killed was buried that same day.” Elrond gasped. “Because he is my wife’s nephew, we were told that Bilbo was taking a lad to Rivendell for medical treatment, so I listened to the healers when they said that the only chance of recovering Posy’s mind was to send her here, too. I had papers drawn, making Bilbo guardian of Posy, the Bounder team sent to Whitfurrows witnessed the signing and Bilbo took Posy with him.” Gorbadoc huffed. “And I thought that would be it for a while. The two would be healed and Bilbo would eventually return to Bag End with a daughter. But…”

“But… Posy was one of the Underhills… or rather she was in training to be an Underhill.” Fortimbras said. “Had been since she was a child, but after her mother’s drowning four years ago, her father objected to her continuing her training and until she was of age, Posy was unable to disagree. Her mother’s contact within the Bounders sent Cousin Sigismond a note regards the matter and he approached me and confirmed her pending status. But I knew nothing of the situation. We wrote to Uncle Gorbo and he turned up on my doorstep a few days later, mad as a march hare. We talked and within hours we had gathered up the lads and were on the road.”

“And what do you intend to do with Posy-dear?” Elrond asked, a sense of dread in his chest.

“Nothing… nothing, until we know how she is. Mentally. You must understand, Lord Elrond. Underhills can be dangerous.” The Thain said.

“No, cousin. We are always dangerous… but we can appear regular.” The hobbit that spoke was either Flambard or Adalgrim, Elrond wasn’t sure which. “But an unbalanced Underhill? That’s _**beyond**_ dangerous.”

“Definitely.” Rorimac added. “Early in Grandfather’s time as Thain, an Underhill was poisoned… but she didn’t die. She became deranged. It took the joint efforts of seven Underhills to stop her, but before they did, she killed 37 people, in eight buildings, in the space of **_less than_** 25 minutes.” Elrond and Vandir caught their breaths. “The Underhills captured and restrained her until the poison wore off, when it did and she realised exactly what she’d done, Daisy Bracegirdle left a note and snapped her own neck, she died instantly… Do you understand, now? While Posy Peachum is still a child she is a child with deadly skills, Lord Elrond. We need to know how dangerous she is to those around her. That will decide whether we finish her training or…”

“Or whether I do my duty as the [zîrant’s](wise%20one's%20\(leader's\)) successor and… end her life.” Ferumbras whispered.

“Ah… Well… We have a slight problem, then. Neither Bilbo or Posy-dear are here… Bilbo left, as I said, three mornings ago, Posy-dear and my foster son, Estel… they left last night. Please understand, this is mostly my fault. I encouraged… No. I should go back a little. Bilbo and the Company arrived under… unusual conditions, but by the first morning, things had settled down. Bilbo explained to me, what had happened to Posy-dear and we decided on a course of treatment. Physically there was little amiss with the child, she played with the younger dwarrow and, once introduced to him, with Estel. Mostly tag or hide-n-seek type games. Posy-dear climbs like she’s part squirrel or cat, they played draughts, chess or skipping games, puzzles and card games. The only thing that was very clear, was that she did not speak. At all, to anyone. She wouldn’t make eye contact with many people, just Bilbo and some of the Company, she would touch even fewer; Bilbo, Kíli, Fíli, Thorin, Merry and Pippin. That was it, no one else.” He sighed.

“After befriending Estel, he was added to both lists. She slowly began to open up, began to talk, her voice was soft and little more than a whisper, she would happily spend time with others but only if she knew where a Company member was.” Galadriel added. “Fortimbras? You said you knew Bilbo was Restored. So you have a fair idea of what’s in front of him? Good.” She said at his nod. “Bilbo asked Elrond to allow Posy-dear to stay here and he agreed. She seemed to be content with the Company’s departure… until the escort returned with the Company’s ponies… and no Company. Posy-dear was not happy. Her voice returned in full and she knew how to use it, Elrond was forced to sedate her.”

The raven-haired elf introduced as Vandir, took up the narration.

“From that point on Posy-dear retreated, she shut down… emotionally, physically and socially. She ate nothing, drank nothing. Elrond’s daughter, Arwen raised concerns that Posy-dear had given up and that without Bilbo she would die. Elrond disagreed and declared that if she still wasn’t eating by the following day… today, that is... he would forcibly deal with the issue.” Some of the hobbits winced and others sighed. “And as Gilraen told Elrond this morning, this only proved to Posy-dear that the only beings she could trust were the Company… and Estel.” Vandir smiled comfortingly at the hobbits. “Yesterday a few of us decided to take action, unfortunately, we hadn’t thought to include Estel in our plans and so we were taken aback when Estel took action on his own. He… ** _acquired_** … supplies and approached Posy-dear and told her of his plan, he had maps and weapons and would stay with her until she was back with Bilbo. That was when another two of our co-conspirators overheard them and a joint consultation was held. Both Estel’s plan and ours, had to change. Ours more than Estel’s. Instead of Elrond’s Twin sons taking Posy-dear to Bilbo, it would be Estel. Instead to them walking all the way, the Twins’ patrol would take them as far as possible by dawn… ah, dawn this morning, that it. But due to Posy-dear’s weakened condition and Estel’s age, the Twins are following them, however Posy-dear and Estel don’t know this.”

Three of the six hobbits began to mutter darkly, amongst themselves.

“Master Took? Posy-dear was here for a number of weeks, she had access to many types of weapons; daggers, swords, bows and throwing knives, among them, but in all that time, the only blades we saw her with, outside of training sessions, were at the dinner table.” Elrond tried to reassure the hobbits. “Posy-dear showed no signs… ever… of being unstable.”

“Training sessions?” Ferumbras asked.

“Yes. Estel is my son and I asked the Company to teach him whatever they could. Princes Frerin and Kíli were teaching him archery, Prince Fíli was instructing him in sword-work and Spymaster Nori was teaching him knife-work. I want my son to be able to defend himself, regardless of his age and no matter what the situation and Bilbo felt the same about Posy-dear, so the two had lessons together.”

“Lessons… huh. Well, that’s something anyway.” Fortimbras muttered, while one of the other hobbits mouthed ‘princes?’, silently.

“It’s good to know she’s… stable, too. That’s the more important bit. We feared coming across Bilbo’s dwarrow, slaughtered in the night, by a deranged child. To know that’s not going to happen? All I can do is offer a prayer of thanks to Yavanna and Nienna.”

“Indeed. But what will you do now?” Elrond asked, the thought of a deranged child assassin in Rivendell scared the collywobbles out of him.

“Hmm… Fortim? That’s your domain, now. As long as the child isn’t a risk, I don’t need to be involved.” Gorbadoc nodded to the Thain.

“She needs to have her training finished. Her Underhill training, that is.” Fortimbras said.

“Agreed, Da. But… there we run into another issue. Sigismond is the [zîrant](wise%20one's%20\(leader\)) and I’m his successor and as such, either he or I, have to be present at her evaluation and classification. But? As the [zîrant’s](wise%20one's%20\(leader's\)) successor, I can’t be her instructor.” Ferumbras stated.

“So that means… what?” Vandir asked.

“That means,” Fortimbras answered, “that Ferumbras **_and_** either Adalgrim or Rorimac have to follow her, because I can’t see Bilbo returning to the Shire for months, just so Posy can finish secret training, that less than fifty people in the shire know about.”

“Oh, dear.” Vandir said.

“Mistress Gilraen? A few times, it’s been mentioned that Estel’s age has had something to do with the decisions made. Why is this? How old is Estel?” Gorbadoc inquired.

“Ah… Estel is… well… um… Estel is… He’s ten years old.”

The response stunned the gathered hobbits so much that none of them were capable of replying.

“Galadriel?” Elrond had been listening to the conversation, but the face of Galadriel held his eyes.

“We will not call Estel and Posy-dear, back, they will join Bilbo and the Company.” Her voice echoed hollowly, a sign of a vision be gifted to her by the Valar. “I will call Glorfindel and Erestor back. They will escort Ferumbras Took and Rorimac Brandybuck to Eryn Galen and Erebor. They will be away from the Shire for three years, two months and 27 days. Their injuries will not be minor, but neither will they be life-threatening. Ferumbras will be Thain for more than 35 years, but only his duty to the hobbits of the Shire will draw him back to Tuckborough and he will not be alone, his Heart Bond will return with him, together they will protect and guide the people of the Shire. Rorimac will be Master of Buckland for over 40 years, he will marry and father two children, both sons. Elrond, Radagast and I will travel with them through the Mountains, there we shall leave them. We must go to Dol Guldur, Mithrandir will need our assistance.” As the vision left her, Galadriel slumped in her seat.

It was minutes before she looked up again, when she did, she was faced with nearly a dozen stunned beings.

“What?” She said. “It’s not like the Valar don’t provide plenty of details, when they rearrange our lives to suit themselves.” Vandir and a few of the hobbits laughed at the disgruntled look on the she-elf’s face.

“Elrond, breakfast is been and gone, but we’ve not had any, yet. How about I call in a request for a hobbit-sized second-breakfast and we discuss what’s going to happen, now?” Vandir stood and once he’d received a nod from Elrond, headed for the kitchens.

“Right, then…” Elrond paused, thinking. “Galadriel? You’d best call Glorfindel and Erestor back, or have them set up a camp wherever they are. As for the Twins? I want the two of them on their way home… Now. Master Ferumbras, Master Rorimac? Do you have travel gear? Weapons? Supplies?”

“Some. The rangers said they would see to our travel packs.”

“Good. After we’ve eaten and done some planning, we’ll check over your equipment and add whatever you need. I want the two of you, Vandir and… I’m going to commandeer Herim to go with you. I want the four of you away as soon as possible. Thorin, Bilbo and the Company may be taking the shorter path, but I've my doubts that they're going to get past Thranduil without assistance. Don't worry about that, now, I'll let Glorfindel explain his plan to you, once you catch up with him.”

The peoples faces cleared, there was planning to do and messages to be sent.

 

Elladan stumbled as his grandmother’s mind touched his. He reached out and grabbed his brother’s arm, pulling him to a halt. Elrohir’s eyes widened as realised what was happening.

“Elladan?” He whispered, watching Elladan’s eyes flicker and cross as he listened to their grandmother.

“Elrohir. It’s fine.  _[Atar](Father)_  isn’t happy, but he's got greater concerns than our actions. [_Atwa-amil_ ](grandmother)say we’re return immediately, she say Posy and Estel will be fine. There are other hobbits in Rivendell, they came looking for Bilbo, something about _‘under a hill?’_ I didn’t understand that, but she didn’t clear it up, either. The new hobbits will travel to meet up with Glorfindel and Erestor and will travel to Erebor, something about having to train Posy.”

“But…?”

“ _[Atwa-amil](Grandmother)_ , says they will be fine until after they meet the….” Here he stopped, his eyes crossing again. “Right. Posy and Estel will be fine, they’ll not meet anything dangerous until after they catch the company. Grandmother is going to have our patrol meet us where we left them, we need to hurry, brother, we are to take a contingent of archers and fighters to Erebor. We are to join with Glorfindel and the warriors of Eryn Galen, to defend the Mountain. _[Atar](Father)_ , _[Atwa-amil](grandmother)_  and Radagast will be heading for Dol Guldur to assist Mithrandir.”

A smile broke over both faces.

“We’re going to Erebor.” They said as one.

 

 

 

Khuzdul = (K)                       Quenyan = (Q)          Green Tongue (G)     Sindarin (S)

 _sinta-pil_ _ín_ = short arrows (perfect length for a child-sized bow) (Q)

 _vangw_ _ë sa_ = blast it (lit trans. Vangwë=to blow) (Q)

 _yondo ar-very_ _ä_ = son by marriage (Q)

yondó = sons(Q)

yendë = daughter(Q)

ninya-nildo = my friend (Q)

sanwë-menta = send a mental message (Q)

indyó = grandsons (Q)

amil = mother (formal) (Q)

zîrant = leader (lit trans = wise one) (G)


	21. Into the Mountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posy and Estel re-join the Company.  
> Estel explains.  
> Sam is angry  
> Bilbo warns Thorin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I altered esama's bracer slightly. Yes, there is a reason for this, but you won't find out until the battle scene at Erebor. Sorry.
> 
> edits - 7-Sept

Fíli stood, stunned immobile, as Dwalin yelled into the night. The blade in the warrior’s hand was his. As Posy-dear stepped into the firelight, dragging Estel with her, Fíli quickly checked his weapons and sure enough, he was missing two. His mind tried to work out when she could have taken them, he’d had them when they packed up and he’d checked them as he waited to say farewell. Had she taken them when he’d hugged her or as he’d carried her back to Nistralá? The thought that she’d taken two blades without his knowledge was worrying, as was the knowledge that he hadn’t realised it in the seven days since, he should always know where his blades were and made a mental note to check them more often.

Bilbo, however, was horrified. Posy and Estel had left Rivendell without permission. They’d walked for days in what could have been dangerous territory. Alone.

“What in the name of Yavanna are you two doing here!?” He yelled.

Posy dropped Estel’s hand and padded over to face Bilbo.

“You left me. You left me with the elves. They drugged me. They planned to force me to eat. Because you left me there.” Her voice was soft, calm and cold as ice. Bilbo was reminded of his mother and of his father’s reaction when Mama’s voice went like that. Then what she’d actually said registered in his head.

“They **_drugged_** you? Who?” He snarled.

“ _[Atar](Father)_  Elrond did it.” Estel said. “When Glorfindel returned with your ponies but not you, Posy became hysterical and began to scream.  _[Atar](Father)_ sedated her and she retreated again. For two days, she didn’t eat, drink or speak, she barely reacted when Nistralá and Arwen moved her. I heard Arwen and _[Atar](Father)_ arguing over how to treat her, Arwen wanted to call the Company back, but _[Atar](Father)_ said he would give Posy another day, if she wasn’t eating by then he would make her eat.” Bilbo winced at the thought. “I listened as Glorfindel and Erestor planned to ride after you, the next day, Tuesday, and bring Bilbo back, they thought that Bilbo was Posy’s only chance of recovery… but I was worried. Arwen had said Posy was so small that another three days with no food or water would leave her too weak to recover.”

Estel stood tall, he knew what he was about to say was going to get him in trouble.

“So… I decided that she couldn’t wait. I stole two _[tailë rotas](extension%20tubes)_  from the Twins and filled them with supplies and weapons, I stole their maps and tricked Nistralá into leaving me with Posy. I offered to take Posy and bring her to you, Bilbo, but before we could leave, the Twins climbed in her window. They, too, had a plan. [_mamil_](mommy), Arwen, Vandir, the Twins and some others had decided that if Posy wasn’t brought to you, she would be dead before you could be brought back to Rivendell. The Twins and their patrol brought us both to the foot of the mountains and we began to walk.”

“It’s taken us five days to catch up with you. I’m much better, now. I’m eating and drinking as we walk and we had lots of little rest stops. Estel made sure that I never got too tired, that I slept and rested properly.” Posy assured Bilbo, before her voice went cold again. “But I will not be left behind again. You are the only family I have and I will **_not_** be parted from you. I will do what you say, but I will **_not_** be parted from you. Not again.”

Before Bilbo could comment further, Sam entered the conversation.

“Posy? Where did you get the wrist brace?” His voice was hard, no one in the company had heard Sam speak like this before, only Frodo, Merry and Pippin had.

“It was Mama’s. She was teaching me, before she drowned. All Mama’s things were in her box and Bilbo brought it for me.”

“Everything is true?” Sam asked.

“Nothing is forbidden.” Posy responded.

Sam’s reaction to these two seemingly random phrases was unexpected. He turned and began pacing, swearing in Green Tongue all the while. Bilbo was amazed at Sam’s actions and at his language, for near five minutes he swore and never once did he repeat himself. The Company watched, they were confused, Thorin in particular found Sam’s behaviour puzzling, the hobbit was usually quiet, calm and restrained. But the other hobbits watched Sam warily, they knew what had upset the normally unflappable Samwise.

When Sam spun back to face Posy, Bilbo instinctively stepped between them.

“How far?” Sam growled.

“Before the rains came Mama sent me for my first and second assessments and said that when the rains eased, I could do the others. But that I would need more work on my herbals if I planned to pass them.”

“And your Da stopped your training? When?”

“When Mama drowned, Papa said he wasn’t having Mr Rowbottom near me, Mr Rowbottom might have been Mama’s teacher, but Papa didn’t trust him. Papa said I would have to wait until I came of age and then I could ask the [zîrant](Wise%20One%20\(leader\)) for another teacher.”

“Right. Well that’s not gonna happen. I’ll finish your training meself. Any objection?” While it was Posy, Sam was talking to, Thorin spoke up in reply.

“I have a question, Sam.”

Sam turned to face Thorin, looking him in the eye. Thorin jerked back at the look in the normally gentle hobbit’s eyes. There was something feral there, something wild, something that caused Thorin to want to reach for his sword, the only thing stopping him was **_also_** that look, it dared him to. The look said he would be dead before he could draw his blade.

But it wasn’t Sam that spoke next, it was Frodo.

“Sam.” His voice was firm, not hard, but definitely not soft. “Sam, you will talk with Posy… in our Green tongue, if you please. I will give the Company what information they are permitted to know.”

“Mister Frodo, I-” Sam began.

“Sam. Stop. You will not break your word, but I? **_I_** never gave it. I never gave the [zîrant](Wise%20One%20\(leader\)) my word… **_ever_**.” Frodo grinned at the look of understanding and joy on Sam’s face.

“Thank you Mister Frodo.” Sam turned and began to fire question after question at Posy, barely giving her enough time to answer before asking the next, all of them in the hobbit’s mother language.

Frodo turned to the Company and spoke again.

“If Posy is truly an Underhill, like Sam believes, then she quite capable of protecting herself. But Estel? You shouldn’t have been the one to bring her all this way.”

“Sorry Mister Frodo, but I should have and I did. Nothing can change that now. I am here and unless you want to break the Company or all of us go back to Rivendell, I’ll be staying with you.” Estel’s voice was strong and Frodo was suddenly reminded of who Estel was… or rather who he would become.

“Bilbo?” Frodo turned to Bilbo and spoke for a few moments in Green tongue, whatever he said caused Bilbo’s eyes to open wide and surprise spread across his face, before amusement settled in his eyes.

“You said your mother knows?” When the Man-child nodded, Bilbo went on. “Very well, Estel. You stay with us… **_but!_** Your lessons continue. Frerin and Kíli will teach you archery and dagger work. Bifur will add spear work. Fíli will teach you duel wielding. Thorin will teach you single sword. Nori will continue to teach you knife throwing. Added to this will be: Dwalin will add hand to hand combat. Óin will give you healing instruction. Gloín will teach you financial management. Ori will teach you how write in Westron, how to keep a travel journal and the difference between a personal journal and an official one. Dori will teach you how to repair and alter your clothes and equipment to continue to be a perfect fit as you grow. Bofur will show you how you can improvise everyday objects and use them as weapons. You will learn from Bombur how to cook on an open fire. Balin will give you lessons on diplomacy. Merry and Pippin will give you the Shire histories. Frodo will teach you how to talk your way out of trouble.”

To say that Estel and the Company were surprised would be an understatement. They were dumbfounded. Bilbo had just volunteered them to teach the boy, without consultation.

“And you, Bilbo? What will you be teaching the lad?” Thorin growled.

“I? I will teach him how to be a burglar. How to sneak, how to be silent, how get into and out of places. But more than this… I will teach him ethics. He may become a great warrior some day, but that doesn’t mean he should forget how to care. How to care about the world around him, how to care about the people around him, how to care for the animals he will work with.”

When the lad looked on the verge of arguing, Bilbo pulled him up with a simple comment.

“You know the path your father refused. Whether you take that path or not, while you are with me, with this company, your training is our concern and your mother would not be pleased if I disregarded that path. Understood?”

“Yes, Mister Bilbo.” The lad sighed. Then a frown marred his face. “Mister Bilbo? You mentioned everyone but Mister Sam and Posy. What will they teach me?”

“Sam will have his hands full with Posy for a while, but he may include you in her lessons, or he may not. What he is teaching her is secret, a hobbit secret.” Frodo was the one to answer the Man-child. “I suggest we all sit back down and finish our dinner, I’m sure that Posy and Estel are hungry. While we do, I will tell you what I know of the Underhills and their business. But… please remember, the Underhills are a hobbit secret. Few know about them, less than a hundred hobbits know and I would say that there is less than a half dozen beings outside the shire that are aware of what the Underhills are and what they can do.”

Frodo’s calm manner and lack of concern soon settled the dwarrow down. It took a while but eventually the Company were seated again, they listened as Frodo, unknowingly, used almost the exact same words that Fortimbras had used to explain to Elrond and those in Rivendell. When he finished, he sat calmly and waited for the dwarrow to process what they’d just been told.

“So, Sam promised not to tell anyone?” Fíli asked.

“Not quite, Fíli. Underhills and hobbits in general, don’t begin formal training until they reach their Tween-day, so Sam-”

“What do you mean be ‘tween day’?” Ori interrupted.

“Did you not explain this to them, last time, Bilbo?” Frodo asked the older hobbit.

“Frodo, lad. Unless they remembered, themselves, it wouldn’t matter whether I’d told them or not. But… no, lad, the subject never came up.”

“Oh, right… I forgot.” Frodo sighed. “Right, Ori. Hobbits come of age at 33, got it? A hobbit is a babe from birth to 2 years of age, a toddler until 5 and then a fauntling until they are 10. Their 11th birthday is considered their Faunt-Day and their 22nd is their Tween-day, with their Coming of Age on their 33rd birthday. No hobbit can begin any type of formal training until they reach their Tween-day. Underhills, included. Up until then it is their parents’ responsibility to educate a hobbit child, whether a gardener, a baker, a farmer, an Underhill, or any other family trade. The difference is that those that are Underhills have to keep it secret, so many of them have other trades, most of them only do just well enough at this other trade, to make a living. The idea being that an Underhill should be not noticed, by those around them and by those they hunt.”

“Okay, but what has that got to do with Sam and making promises?” Fíli asked again.

“Underhills grow up knowing that they have to keep what they are secret, but it’s not until they begin their formal training that they take a Vow of Silence on the matter.”

“Ah, right.” Fíli said.

“So… what about Posy? She talked about training before the Underhills were mentioned.” Kíli said.

“But only because Sam knew what her bracer meant and then he used a catch-phrase that is used to identify other Underhills.”

“Everything is True? Isn’t that what he said?”

“Yep. The two phrases… ‘Everything is True?’ And “Nothing is forbidden.’ Are often used together.” Frodo explained.

“And the bracer?” Nori asked. “I’ve seen them before. Once as I passed through Michel Delving and I’m sure I saw two lads wearing them in Bree.”

“Quite likely. The original bracer was different to what Posy wears, now. Originally the blade emerged from the palm of the hand, right where the ring finger is, usually, on the left hand. If you saw a hobbit missing a ring finger, the chances of them being an Underhill was high, but about the turn of the century, a Took Underhill saved the lives of a pair of dwarrow, the lad lost another two fingers in the act. But the dwarrow wanted to thank him and so they altered the bracer. They created a new style, a bracer that if the blade is not extended, can be used to shield the forearm and even when extended, it won’t stop the wearer from using their hand to hold other items.”

“Does Sam have one of them?” Fíli asked, he was curious to see what they looked like close up.

“No, not here. He did, but when the Valar sent us all back in time, they sent nothing with us. No clothes, no weapons, no possessions at all. This is particularly hard for Sam, he had a wife and young daughter in that other timeline.” Bilbo answered. “He misses them fiercely, but the Valar have promised that once our task is done, that they will bring Rosie and little Elanor, here, to be with Sam. I think that’s the only reason Sam is still going, the knowledge that when we’re done, he will have his family back. If not for that knowledge, I think he’d have Faded weeks ago.”

“Faded?” Balin asked.

“Hobbits are like elves and dwarrow in that we love only once in our lives, but dwarrow are made to endure and if they loose their One, they will keep going, living with the grief. But hobbits are more like elves, in that we can Fade, it’s rare, but it happens. Fading means exactly that, we no longer eat or drink. Posy was in the early stages of the Fade when we arrived. She may not have lost her Heart-Bond but she had lost her family, when the Bounders made me her guardian, I became her family. Me leaving her in Rivendell was wrong and I should have realised it. Without a family again, she began to Fade again.”

“So Estel offering to bring her to you, to her family? That saved her?” Gloín asked, ever the worried parent.

“In essence, yes. Estel was the closest thing she had, in Rivendell, to family and his offer to bring her to me? Thinking about it, now? Even if Glorfindel and Erestor had come to get me, it would have been too late.”

“But to bring an ill child and climb mountains with her? Surely that’s not good?” Dori fretted.

“No, not really, but Posy wasn’t ill, she was Fading. There’s a difference. She wasn’t physically ill at all. Estel bringing her… he gave her a reason to stay. And the closer she got to me, to her family, the stronger she got. As long as she ate and drank, she would recover quickly. You can see, she’s still tired and a little drained. Sleeping here with us, with the ones she calls family, by the time she wakes in the morning? You’d never have known she hasn’t been well.” Bilbo assured the dwarrow.

“But when she first joined us? She didn’t recover all that quickly, then. Why not?” Fíli was still worried.

“Ah… but we weren’t her family then. On paper, I might have been, but not in her heart, not then. As she fixed us in her heart, her recovery progressed.”

“Bilbo? What about you? After last time? When Kíli… Did you Fade?” Fíli asked, half afraid to hear.

“I started to, but Gandalf bullied me into life again. I left Erebor the same day that Thorin, Fíli and Kíli were… were… were entombed in the Moutain. Gandalf brought me west, we made it as far as Beorn’s before the winter caught us. That winter Gandalf and Beorn bullied me into eating and walking and staying alive. That was were I learned Khuzdul. Gandalf believed that you, Thorin and Kíli would have wanted me to know it. In the spring we left and kept going west, we went past Rivendell this time, I had not the heart to see it. Gloín? You’ll be pleased to know that I raided the troll hoard as we went past and a damned good thing I did. When I reached Bag End the blasted Sackville-Baggins’ were auctioning off my home, it took many months to get my possessions back and in many cases, it was just simpler to buy them back. By the time everything settled down again, I had got back into the habit of living. Don’t get me wrong the pain when I woke every morning was almost enough to bring me to my knees, every single day, but I knew that Kíli wouldn’t want me to just give up. And so I fought the Fade. For nearly thirty years, I fought. Then Frodo happened.” Bilbo grinned at the dark haired hobbit. “Frodo’s grandmother and my mother were sisters, but on the other side of the family, Frodo’s great-grandfather and my grandfather were brothers. No matter how you looked at it we were cousins.”

“And that helped?” Kíli asked, curious.

“No, Kíli. Nothing really helped. But when Frodo’s parents, Drogo and Primula, were drowned? That changed things. For the first few months Frodo stayed in Brandy Hall, but the Hall was a big place and he was a small child, he’d not yet had his Tween-day when he came to me. He was a brat, a real brat. Oh, no Thorin, Fíli and Kíli were **_nothing_** in comparison to Frodo at his worst. He raided farms, stole mushrooms, pranked his cousins, hid from his aunts and on one very memorable occasion, he ran away. The little horror had packed all his things and returned to his parents’ smial, but he failed to tell anyone. It took nearly a week to find him, that was when both Uncle Bingo, on the Baggins side and Uncle Gorbo, on the Took side, decided that Frodo should come and stay with me. It worked well. All he wanted was attention and to feel secure again and all I wanted was something to keep me distracted. But… in all honesty? I wasn’t thinking of Frodo when I agreed to take him in. All I could see was a way out. I would take Frodo, train him up as the Baggins and then I could leave. I needed mountains again.” Bilbo leant on Kíli as he spoke.

“Dwalin, Nori and Bofur were semi-frequent visitors and while I cared about them greatly, they just reminded me of what I didn’t have. I felt the need to get away from the Shire, from where I would see dwarrow. Which is why, when I turned 111 and the Thain agreed that I could pass the title of Baggins to Frodo, I left. I went to Rivendell, because I knew that dwarrow visitors would be extremely rare, but I was still surrounded by Mountains. I could be left alone to remember and I spent my days working on my book, it told the story of our adventures.” He looked up suddenly. “Do you know? I can remember every single word I wrote. How odd is that?” He huffed.

“I stayed there until Galadriel offered me a space on the last ship to sail west, she hoped that finally I would have peace. But even in Valinor, I grieved.”

“As did I, uncle. Which is quite probably the reason that the Valar sent us back. To give us peace.” Frodo patted Bilbo’s hand.

“Quite likely, my lad, quite likely. And do you know? I’m going to take advantage of that. This time it will be different. **_This_** time we’ll get it right.” Bilbo swore.

“Yes, we will, [amrâl](love).” Kíli agreed.

“Now lads, I think it’s time we got some sleep. Morning will come whether we want it to or not.” Bilbo grinned.

 

The next morning, Bilbo wasn’t the only one surprised when Posy began to strap weapons to her arms and legs. The daggers at her waist weren’t that much of a surprise, nor was the bracer, but seeing her strapping the sheaths for a pair of delicate looking stilettos to her upper arms, was unexpected. But the real shock? Watching as she tied off the harnesses for a pair of Fíli’s daggers on her thighs. More entertaining was watching Fíli’s reaction when he realised what she was doing. Kíli, Frerin and Thorin were forced to smother their laughter at the blonde prince’s annoyance.

He sidled up to Sam and asked.

“How is she doing it?”

“Doing what, Mister Fíli?” Sam wasn’t sure what Fíli was asking.

“I asked for my daggers back last night and she gave them to me, I **_had_** them when I did last watch with Dwalin, I **_had_** them when I woke up and and I **_had_** when I ate breakfast. And **_now_**? She’s wearing them and I **_didn’t_** give them to her. **_How_** did she get them?”

“Oh. Ah, I don’t know, Mister Fíli. I never saw her either. But I wasn’t really watching. If you want them back? I can ask her to not take them again. It might work.”

“No, Sam. If she wants them, she can have them. I’d just like to know **_how_** she’s getting them.”

“Oh, alright. I’ll see what I can do to find out.” Sam offered.

“Thank you, Sam, that would be grand. I just can’t figure it out.” Fíli patted Sam on the shoulder and went back to finish packing his bedroll, still frowning in confusion.

Posy finished putting her things away in her  _[tailë rota](extension%20tube)_  and as she did she watched as Sam and Fíli chatted for a bit before Fíli went back to his bedroll and Sam began to gather his weapons, she saw his fingers go to his forearm a number of time before she remembered what else was in her Mama’s box. Beside the box she saw the bundle that Vandir had placed in it, the one he’d asked her to pass along to Bilbo. The she-hobbit carefully drew out both the bundle and the box, gently Posy pulled out a heavy canvas bag, before closing the  _[rota](tube)_  again and storing it in her travel pack.

If Bilbo hadn’t cornered both her and Estel and told them that he didn’t want the dwarrow knowing that he had _[tailë rotas](extension%20tube)_  as well, she and Estel might well have continued to use them as their primary packs. It was best to let the others think that Posy and Estel’s _[rotas](tubes)_  were from the Twins’ patrol gear and were the only ones to be had, so they were tucked away, out of sight, hopefully to be forgotten by the dwarrow.

Holding both items Posy dear approached Sam.

“Mister Sam?”

“Yes, Posy-dear?” He replied as he finished pulling on his cloak.

“Mister Sam… you don’t have a bracer.”

“No, dear, I don’t. The Valar din’t send mine with me, when they sent me back to Mister Bilbo’s Bag End.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip for a moment, but ended up holding out the bag. “Mister Sam? Would you like my Grandda’s bracer? Grandda had big arms just like you, so it should fit you. Mama said that if I had a son when I get married, I could give it to him. But you don’t have one, so you need it more.”

“Posy… ya don’t need to give me this. I kin manage without a bracer.” Sam assured her.

“I know you can, Mister Sam, but you shouldn’t have to.”

“One day ya will marry, Posy, marry and 'ave children. Me keeping this? It’s not right.”

“Then how about you borrow it? Just until Fíli and Kíli and Thorin make you a one of your own?”

Sam thought about that for a few seconds.

“Until a new bracer kin be made? Yeah, alright. But only til then.”

“Thank you, Mister Sam.” Posy’s smile was brilliant.

“I should be thanking ya, Miss Posy.”

“Okay.” She held the other item to her chest. “I have to give this to Uncle Bilbo, now. Vandir told me to.”

“Well, ya'd best get to it then.” Sam shooed her off, as he slid the bracer onto his arm, it was a fine fit and needed little adjustment to sit in exactly the right position.

“Okay.” Posy bounced over to Bilbo and swayed back and forth until he put his pack down and looked at her.

“Now, Miss Posy, what are you up to?” He grinned to soften his words.

“When we left Rivendell, Vandir put this in my  _[rota](tube)_  and told me to give it to you. He said to tell you that it was from Glorfindel and Erestor.”

“Oh, dear. I wonder what it is?” Bilbo warily took the bundle.

“I don’t know, uncle Bilbo, he didn’t say.”

“Ah.” Bilbo gently unwound the silken fabric holding the contents hidden within. What emerged were a pair of magnificent hand fangs. These were an ancient style of weapon, made for close quarters fighting. The hilt sat snugly in a fist with the blade emerging from the top of the fist and flowing back over the knuckles and down over the outer edge of the forearm towards the elbow. Wickedly sharp, with lethal looking points, they were very definitely weapons designed to injure. In the bundle were two very different sheaths, one was labelled for the right upper arm and the other was for the right thigh. It took Bilbo a while to figure out why.

The sword that Telovar had made him was sheathed on his left leg, it had a harness that sat just below his belt, with only the tip of the sword-blade going into a sheath, but the hilt of the sword clipped into a bracket, just below where it fit his hand. With the sword resting at his hip, it wasn’t possible for a hand fang to sit there too, but if he didn’t want to use the sword then having a fang on his right upper arm meant he would only have to reach across his chest to be armed and with the other on his right hip, he would only have to drop his hand and the fang would fit into it perfectly.

Telovar and Glorfindel had planned the two fangs and their harnesses carefully, but it still took Bilbo and Kíli a few minutes to work out how the harnesses went on and to adjust them to fit firmly. Kíli stepped back and looked at his Heart Bond. The hobbit wore dwarrow styled travel clothes, minus the boots, of course. He had a pair of daggers on his forearms, a hand fang on one upper arm and one of Kíli’s daggers on the other, a sword at his waist on one side, a dagger at the other, a second hang fang on one thigh and a set of three throwing knives on one calf. And these were only the blades that were visible, Kíli had little doubt that Bilbo had at least one blade hidden away under his clothes.

It made Kíli’s heart trace to see his Heart Bond armed and ready to defend his family and friends… and him. He’d never given much thought before to what his Heart Bond would be like or even if he would have one. But the one that Mahal made for him? Sometimes he could only look at the hobbit in wonder, that Mahal had made this marvellous being to be the other part of him, to be the sword to his axe, the arrow to his bow, the hammer to his anvil. The Heart to his body. He knew what a Heart Bond was, everyone did, their Heart was made to beat with yours. But sometimes, Kíli was afraid, what if they **_didn’t_** change things? What if he still died? He was terrified that Bonding with Bilbo would mean that if Kíli was killed, then Bilbo would die, that was how the Bond worked. Right?

It wasn’t until Fíli reminded him of the conversation between Bilbo and the Thain that the two of them had overheard from the hallway of Bag End, that Kíli realised that Bilbo did not intend to live without him, if he died, Bilbo would be, at most a few days behind him, not even Posy would be enough to tie him to life, this time. Bilbo was not going to live without Kíli, again. This was the thing that made Kíli more determined than ever that he would live, he would not let Bilbo die.

And seeing Bilbo, armed as he was? It gave Kíli confidence. Confidence that they could do this, they could change what happened.

 

A few hours later, as they stopped for a short lunch break, Bilbo subtly cornered Thorin and Kíli, dragging Posy along for the walk.

“Tonight’s going to be rough, Thorin, really rough. I could tell you what’s going to happen but some of it I’m just not certain of; I wasn’t with you for all of it. But what I **_do_** know is this. Just before dark we’ll get caught in a thunderstorm, well, not really a thunder **_storm_** , per say, but more a thunder **_battle_**.”

“A thunder battle?” Kíli asked.

“Aye.” Bilbo answered. “A thunder battle, between a group of stone giants… and yes, the legends are true, they do exist and tonight you’ll get to see them up close. A bit too close for my comfort. But that’s not the problem.”

“Then what is, Bilbo?” Thorin asked. He’d learnt, travelling with the hobbit and during their stay in Rivendell that Bilbo was everything he’d said he was. He knew what was coming, but as he said, the more they changed the less he knew, that was why he was determined to keep things on as tight a schedule as possible.

“Once the giants are done, we will take shelter in a cave. It’s bare and empty, but it’s still a problem. The floor will collapse and drop the Company down into the mountain. In Goblin town, I don’t know what happens to you there, I wasn’t with you, but no one is badly hurt, some scrapes, bruises and a few strained muscles is about it.”

“Where were you?” Kíli needed to know.

“I fell deeper into the mountain and… I have to do it again.”

“What? Why?” Thorin demanded.

“I told you there was something I had to collect in the mountains? That’s where I have to go to get it. I **_can’t_** leave it there, if I do, Mordor will get it and that can **_never_** happen. **_Never_**.”

“What is it?” Kíli asked.

“I can’t tell you. Not yet and maybe never... I don’t know. But Frodo and I are the only ones who can carry it, I carried it for 60 years and then Frodo had it for another 20 years. Once I have it, once we are out of the mountains, once we are safe in Beorn’s lands, then I’ll figure out a way to contain it, but **_until_** it’s contained, I can’t tell you anything more about it. The risk of it trying to poison you is too great.”

“It’s a poison? Do you have to carry it?”

“It’s not a poison, but it can be poisonous. While I carry it and you don’t know what it is, you should be safe. I wouldn’t risk you, needlessly, Kíli, you know that.”

“I do, Bilbo.” Kíli smiled at Bilbo.

“But it creates a problem. Frodo knows what’s coming, or at least he will once we see the stone giants. I want to send Estel and my hobbits… and yes, Posy, I mean you, too… I want to send them over land, while most of the dwarrow go through the mountain. The timing should be about the same. If, instead of going into the cave, Frodo, Frerin and the hobbits continue on, they **_should_** reach the rock outcropping where we emerge from the mountain before us, before sunset. But it will mean them travelling all night and all day.”

“Have you said anything to them yet?” Thorin asked.

“No, not yet. I wanted to speak to you three first. Posy, I know you don’t like the idea of being parted from me, from us, but will you stay with Frodo, Frerin, Merry, Pip and Sam? Please?”

“You're going to meet us on the outcropping?” She asked.

“Yes, we all will, the dwarrow should get there a few minutes ahead of me, but only a few minutes.”

“Alright. Can I ride on Merry again?” She said after thinking about it for a minute or so.

“That’s up to you and Merry to work out. The paths might not be wide enough for his warg-self. I don’t know what condition they’ll be in tonight. But Sam should be able to scout ahead for you.”

“Bilbo? Why are you sending Frerin with the hobbits? Won’t we need him?” 

“No, Kíli. Frerin wasn’t with us last time. It was just me and you lot. Besides, splitting Frerin and Frodo? They still haven’t figured it out yet, so they’re basically useless, apart.”

Both Thorin and Kíli grunted agreement of this comment.

“I’ll pull Frodo off to the side and talk to him and Frerin. The cave is an odd shape and if I suggest we keep Frerin, Estel and Posy closest to the entrance, because they’re the most vulnerable, along with the hobbits in warg-shape to protect them, do you think that might work?”

Thorin handed Bilbo a stick.

“Draw the shape of the cave and any features in it.” He directed.

Bilbo bent and scratched in the dirt at their feet for a few seconds, a rough outline of the cave appearing. He described the cave as best he could remember.

“So the floor is sandy? And this here, these steps are rock?”

“Yes. From here to here, this is the part of the floor that opened under us.” Bilbo pointed.

“Right. So, what we’ll do is keep all the packs on the steps, out of the way of rodents and scorpions. The hobbits, Frerin and Estel will sleep on the packs. That way once the floor opens and we fall, all our gear is safe. I know that’s a lot of packs, but if Pip, Frodo and Sam can carry our gear and shift? It won’t get in their way and once shifted, those three are the smallest. Sam can scout ahead, Frodo will stay with Frerin and Pip can either ride in Merry’s cloak or his shoulder. It would mean that there’s only four walking, Merry, Frerin, Estel and Posy. If you talk to Frerin and Frodo before tonight, they will be ready and they’ll know what to do.” Thorin explained. “How’s that sound?”

“Yes, that’s good. We can work with that.” Bilbo sighed in relief.

“Good. Then you might want to catch Frodo and Frerin before we get moving again.”

“Aye. Can give me ten minutes before we move out, please?”

“Ten? Yes, I can give you ten minutes. Kíli you go with him, Posy? Want to help me round the lads up?” Thorin shooed Bilbo and Kíli off in the direction of Frerin and Frodo.

 

 

 

Khuzdul = (K)                       Quenyan = (Q)          Green Tongue (G)     Sindarin (S)

 

 _tailë rotas_ = extension tubes (Q)

 

Note: Bilbo's hand fangs are based on Ulaks. (I'll try and get a picture of them and his sword ready for the confrontation with Azog)


	22. Under the Mountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo knows whats coming  
> So does Frodo  
> Inside the Mountain  
> Azog gets a shock  
> The Carrock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edits 7-Sept

Cornering Frodo and Frerin was easier said than done, in the end Bilbo had to give up on subtlety and just grab Frodo by the arm and drag him away from the others, knowing that Frerin would follow. If he hadn’t needed Frerin’s input, he would have just spoken to Frodo in Green Tongue, but as it was he was forced to be blunt about his actions.

“Bilbo?” Frodo asked.

“Hush, lad. Frerin, get your great hairy ass over here. Now.” When Nori and Bofur started to follow, Bilbo waved at them. “No. Not you lot. You stay there.” He continued to drag Frodo and Frerin until they were out of hearing distance, hoping that Thorin would keep the others away.

“Bilbo?” Frerin asked.

“Just give me a moment, Frerin, there’s a lad.” Bilbo huffed as he thought about what to say and how to say it. “Right, then. Frodo? Tonight is the stone giants, the goblin cave and the game of riddles.”

Frodo went a little pale.

“Tonight? All of them?” He gasped.

“Yes. Tonight. All of them… But… I need to do this alone.” He waited for Frodo to protest… but none was forthcoming. “I want you two, to lead the hobbits over land to the outcropping where-” This brought a protest, but from Frerin, not Frodo.

“Stone Giants? Goblin cave? Over land? Just where in the name of Mahal, will you be, Bilbo Baggins?”

“Frerin…” Frodo started.

“Frerin. Stop. Now.” Bilbo used the voice that Frodo thought of as his ‘stern uncle voice’, it pulled Frerin with a jolt. “Thank you… **_if_** you had let me finish, you wouldn’t have needed to ask. Now, I’ve made no secret of being Restored, of having done this Quest before. But that also means that I know what’s coming. This afternoon the rain will start and a little before dark a thunderstorm arrives, but as we will find out, it’s not so much a thunder **_storm_** , but a thunder **_battle_**. A battle between a group of stone giants. Yes, Frerin, they do exist and you’ll get to see them tonight. A bit too close for my liking, but, that’s what happens. After the giants, we’ll seek shelter in a cave. That cave is no ordinary cave, but an entrance to Goblintown, a goblin settlement inside the mountains. No, we can’t find somewhere else to stop.” Bilbo said before Frerin could ask the question Bilbo **_knew_** was on the tip of his tongue. “There’s two reasons and I’ll get to them in a minute. Last time, in that other timeline, the Company all fell into the mountain. The dwarrow were captured by the goblins and taken to their king, I knew no more than Fíli and Kíli said the goblin king can’t sing. Don’t ask me I wasn’t there. I fell deeper into the heart of the mountain, where I had a game of riddles with a creature that few people had heard of, and at that point, I wasn’t one of them.”

“Gollum.” Frodo stated.

“Yes, lad. Gollum. That’s where I picked up the ‘thing’, and I have to do that again. I said two reasons. The first… Killing the goblin king, leaves the goblins leaderless and so when Azog calls there is no one to lead them, it means that Azog’s forces when they descend on Erebor will be lessened, not a huge amount, but it may well be the difference between winning and loosing that battle. Plus, if this ‘thing’ is left there, then eventually it will fall into the control of Mordor. And I cannot let that happen. Frodo, I told Thorin and Kíli that I couldn’t tell them anything about it, until I was certain it was contained, until I was certain it couldn’t poison them. Thinking about it since then? I can’t tell them until after Erebor, until after that battle. I’ll not say why now, but when I do, you’ll understand. Can you be patient with us, Frerin? Can you wait?”

Frerin studied Bilbo for nearly a minute before turning the same consideration to the younger hobbit.

“There will be a complete disclosure of the matter? Nothing more hidden?” Frerin’s attitude was that of a prince demanding response.

“Yes, Frerin. Once the battle before the gates of Erebor is done and the injured are being treated, Frodo and I will call a conference of our allies, there the entire truth will be told, nothing will be withheld. We will answer any and all questions on the matter… **_if_** we know the answer, that is.” Bilbo assured the dwarf prince.

“Then I can wait.”

“Thank you. So… tonight. When we reach the cave, Thorin is going have all our packs kept in one place and he will suggest that the hobbits use the packs as a type of mattress, to keep them off the sandy floor and out of the reach of scorpions and the like. Once the cave floor opens and the dwarrow and I drop into the mountain, I **_need_** you two to lead the hobbits over the mountain ridge to the outcropping. I marked it fairly clearly on your map, Frodo. It took Gandalf and I, less than twelve hours to walk from there, back past the goblin cave, on our return to the Shire, so if you leave within minutes of us falling into the mountain, you should be there well before us.” Bilbo knelt and using a stick, sketched the outcrop landmarks into the dirt.

“We emerged from the mountain roughly around dusk, tomorrow night. Then there was a fight with Azog and his Orcs, before Manwë’s Eagles rescued us. Thorin was hurt, as was Bofur, Dori and Ori, but none of them severely, Thorin was the worst with warg-bites, the rest were mostly muscular. So when the Eagles left us, we were a sorry group, some injured and with little in the way of supplies or weapons left. If Frodo, Sam and Pippin carry our packs and shift, we can keep most of our supplies and Frodo and Pippin are the least helpful in the dark and while they could shift back, I’d suggest not… or shifting their other form. That would leave only you - Frerin, Merry, Posy and Estel on foot, overnight, them tomorrow, if possible, Frodo you shift up into your warg-shift, Frerin can ride you, Posy and Estel can ride Merry and carry Pippin while Sam scouts ahead.”

“Bilbo? I’ve been thinking about your shifts and carrying things.” Frerin interrupted.

“Is it relevant to this or can it wait until we hit the flat-lands?” Bilbo asked.

“I think… it could be very relevant, but… I’m just not sure it will work.”

“Alright. Tell us.”

“It’s the shift thing. If all of you shift to wargs and we strapped all the packs together and laid them over your warg backs. Then you shift back to hobbits? You’ll be hobbits again, able to walk and, if need be, to fight. And if the worst comes, you can shift back into a warg and because the packs are only laid over your backs, there’s nothing to undo to toss them off. That way we should be able to carry all the packs and you can still walk as hobbits.”

“Oh, Frerin. That’s genius. When we get to Mirkwood, we’re going to need that. But tonight? I think it best if we stick with what we are certain of tonight, we can play around with that once we reach Beorn’s.” Bilbo grinned.

“Fair enough. So when we reach the outcrop, should we set up a camp or not?” Frerin replied.

“No. No camp, not there. As the dwarrow emerge from the mountain, give each of them their packs back and make sure they put them on, immediately. They won’t have time otherwise.”

“And what about you, uncle?” Frodo said.

“I’ll be a few minutes behind the dwarrow, but only a few minutes. Maybe less. I still haven’t decided what to do about Gollum and that may be the decider of time.”

“Uncle? Gollum’s-”

“I know, lad. And that’s the issue. I know what he was, what he is and what he’s done, but I also know what happens to him, what Mordor does to him and I have to decide… Whether I leave him alive without his ‘precious’ or to give him a merciful death. I just don’t know.”

“You’ll know when it’s time, uncle.” Frodo assured him.

“I hope so, my boy. As soon as you see Gandalf tell him to call the Eagles, we’re going to need them. They’ll take us to the Carrock, on the edge of Beorn’s lands.”

“Alright… Ah… can I tell the others? Sam, Merry and Pip?” Frodo asked. “It’s just... I don’t think they’d like it being sprung on them.”

“I know, lad. That’s why I’m telling you now, so you can tell them, just… do it in Green Tongue, please. I’m sure that Kíli will have told Fíli by now and quite possibly Thorin has told Dwalin. I’ll chat with Thorin and maybe we’ll let everyone know about the cave, that might help. At least the dwarrow will know that Posy and Estel will be safe. Maybe... We’ll see. For now, off you go and let the troublemakers know, Frodo.” Bilbo patted both Frerin and Frodo on the shoulder as he made his way back to the group.

 

 

The stone giants were just as Bilbo remembered, only this time it wasn’t he that lost his footing. Frodo was the one to nearly fall into the darkness. The fear on Frerin’s face made it clear that he knew just how close he had come to loosing the hobbit. Thorin hoped that this meant that Frerin was finally getting a clue about his connection with Frodo. The raven headed dwarf sent up a brief prayer to Mahal that he did.

The whole hair-raising episode was one that all agreed they never wanted to remember. Bilbo was delighted, however, at Frerin’s reaction to Dwalin’s comment about almost loosing a burglar-hobbit. The blonde dwarf’s eyes squinted and his teeth gritted, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

Bilbo and Thorin shared an amused glance, but followed when Dwalin and Bofur announced they’d found a cave. Bedding down for the few minutes rest they were going to get, felt almost like a waste of time, but even those few minutes were better than nothing.

 

The fall into the mountain was just as bad as Bilbo remembered. Watching as Gollum beat a goblin over the head with a rock, turned his stomach slightly. That and the smell of the foul mushrooms didn’t help.

Bilbo waited as quietly as he could, until he heard Gollum drag the goblin away, then he crept to his feet and moved in the direction of where he’d found the Ring last time. There it was, gleaming in the dim light that his new elven dagger emitted. He crouched down and using a cloth rag, he scooped up the Ring, he carefully pulled out a pouch from under his cloak. The pouch wasn’t special, but it was better then nothing, filled with loose sandy dirt, Bilbo hoped that it would be enough to keep the Ring dormant until he could figure out something a little better. Tipping the Ring into the pouch, he used the rag to push it beneath the surface of the dirt.

He quietly removed his pack and extracted the _[tailë rota](extension%20tube)_  from within, he carefully tied the drawstrings of the pouch and placed it gently on a shelf within the tube, tying it in place with a piece of the Mithril ribbon that Thorin had used to secure the [Thunbu](Skirmish) Beads in his hair. Once pleased with the placement of the pouch, Bilbo closed the tube and replaced it in his pack and slung the pack over his shoulders.

Now all he had to do was figure out what to do about Gollum. To be merciful or not? That was the decision that Bilbo now faced.

 

Sméagol had killed his cousin, Déagol.

He had no qualms about killing anything.

The Ring talked to him and he called it ‘precious’.

He stalked Frodo from the Misty Mountain all the way to Mt. Doom.

He tricked Frodo into thinking that Sam was stealing from him.

He lead Frodo into Shelob’s lair, planning to reclaim the ring after she had killed Frodo.

He attacked Frodo and bit off his finger.

But…

He’d also kept the Ring hidden and safe for centuries.

After Bilbo took the Ring last time, the Nazgûl captured and tortured Gollum for information.

For a while, he became Sméagol again and willing lead Frodo and Sam to Mordor.

As Sméagol he followed Frodo and Sam like a happy puppy.

He caught rabbits to feed Sam and Frodo no the journey to Mordor.

 

What to do? What to do?

If he left Gollum alive, the creature would go mad with longing for the Ring. He would be captured and tortured.

But could Bilbo kill another hobbit in cold blood, even knowing what the other had done?

Listening to Gollum sing about rocks and stones and bones, Bilbo made his choice. He stood and squared his shoulders, it wasn’t a nice choice and maybe it wasn’t the right choice, but it was Bilbo’s choice.

He began to make his way to where he needed to be.

 

The sun had set before Bilbo emerged from the goblin caves and he could hear the Company, they were debating going back for him, but Frodo, Thorin and Kíli were standing firm, they trusted that Bilbo knew what he was talking about when he said he would be only minutes behind them in escaping.

Posy was the first to see him, her squeal of delight silencing all arguments.

“Uncle Bilbo!” She yelled, running in his direction.

He scooped her up without slowing his shuffling run.

“Everyone here?” He asked as he literally ran into Kíli’s arms.

“We’re all here, Bilbo. Frerin and Merry suggested everyone put their packs under their cloaks and tie them on tightly. If we’re going to have to fight, no one needs to be distracted or off-balanced by a loose pack.” Balin replied.

“That’s a smart idea. Just a moment and I’ll do the same.” Bilbo quickly place Posy back on her feet and handed Kíli his pack, while undid the clasps that held the cloak about his shoulders. Posy held the cloak while he slipped the pack back on, then she handed it back to Bilbo, Kíli fussed with the clasp and Bilbo was forced to reach up and take hold of his dwarf’s shaking hands.

“It’s done, now, Kíli and I’m back with you. Everything is exactly as we expected it to be, when talked about this last night. It’s alright.” Kíli’s arms encircled the hobbit, his breath hitching as he tried to control his emotions.

Within seconds, Kíli wasn’t the only dwarf hanging onto the hobbit. Fíli, Ori, Nori, Bofur and surprisingly, Gloín, all wrapped their arms around the hobbit and his Heart Bond. Patiently waiting for their turn to hug their cousin/uncle, the hobbits handed out the last of the pasties they’d brought from Rivendell, knowing that the dwarrow hadn’t eaten in a full day. Finally it was their turn and they quickly huddled around the older hobbit, handing him a savoury pasty, that disappeared with amazing speed.

A howl tore through the silence and as one the Company moved to the trees, the dwarrow climbing with determination, the hobbits with agility and speed. Thorin, Bilbo and Dwalin the last to reach the dubious safety of the branches, as the wargs milled about on the ground. Gandalf spotted a moth and after gently bringing the insect to him, sent a message to Gwaihir, the Lord of Eagles requesting assistance.

When Azog’s white warg stepped out onto a boulder, she growled fiercely, she was the matriarch, the leader, the alpha, the biggest, baddest warg ever seen and she knew it. But what she didn’t know was that she was none of these things, anymore. After taunting Thorin with the death of his father Azog ordered the wargs and Orcs to kill them, it seemed the Company was doomed when the wargs began snapping at the lower branches of the trees in an effort to reach the dwarrow.

Trees became unbalanced and their roots destabilised, one tree tilting and crashing into another, into another, until the entire Company were perched in one tree. It was at this point that Gandalf snatched up a pine cone and using the crystal in his staff, he set it aflame, flaming cone after flaming cone were pitched at the wargs, setting the ground and brush around the trees alight. Wargs retreated and milled around behind Azog, who screeched in frustration as the dwarrow cheered.

Then the last tree began to tilt… out over nothing.

It was now that Thorin made eye contact with the pale orc, slowly Thorin rose to his feet, Orcrist held gently in his right hand, he began to stride down the, now sloping, trunk of the tree. His pace increased until he was approaching the orc at a run.

Azog’s timing was flawless, he gave his warg the command to leap at the exact point that brought her shoulder in contact with Thorin’s, just as he transferred his weight from one foot to the other, knocking the dwarf to the ground, rendering him breathless for a few moments. The orc turned his warg and returned to engage Thorin, who was only now gaining his feet, the orc’s mace swung and caught the dwarf in the upper chest, again throwing him from his feet.

Bilbo looked at Kíli and saw dread on his Bonded’s face. That would never do. He climbed to his feet, just as the white warg’s jaw closed around Thorin’s body. The warg adjusted her grip, causing Thorin to cry in pain, but his arm still reached up and swung his sword, Orcrist striking the warg across the muzzle, she threw her head away from the blade and opened her mouth. Thorin flew through the air landing on his back on a rock, stunning him nearly senseless. Azog ordered an underling to bring him the dwarf’s head.

The orc dismounted and made his way to where Thorin lay, unable to move. The orc’s sword touched Thorin’s neck and lifted in preparation for severing his head, the dwarf’s hand scrabbled in search of Orcrist, but as the orc’s blade rose, there was a cry and a small body crashed into the orc. The pair rolled, the orc gaining the upper hand for a second, before Bilbo twisted and rose above the orc, the dagger he’d claimed from the troll hoard slamming down into the orc’s chest.

And that was the point at which Thorin finally lost the fight with unconsciousness.

Bilbo pulled the dagger from the orc’s chest and rose to his feet. Only once before had he been this angry, only once before did it feel like he was he was on fire with rage. And it was for the same reason, but this time? This time, Bilbo was not defenceless.

Bilbo grinned at Azog and sheathing the dagger, he called on his Valar-Gift. The air shimmered and Bilbo stood tall. Azog’s eye’s widened in shock and then squinted in avarice, he wanted this warg, but… when Bilbo roared, every warg on the escarpment froze, including the white warg. Bilbo roared a second time and was answered. All but three of the orc’s wargs turned tail and ran, only three stayed but they were frozen in place. Azog raised a hand and then he, to froze. The huge black warg facing him no longer stood alone, another four huge, black wargs stood at it’s sides. All five wargs growled low and viciously, making Azog fear for his life for the first time ever. He knew that if the wargs attacked he stood no chance, he knew that any one of the beasts in front of him were larger and stronger than the warg he rode and when a dwarf approached the first warg, the biggest warg, and all it did was twitch an ear at the dwarf? Then, he knew that no matter what he did, these wargs would defy him. Defy him and if he pushed too hard, they would rip him to shreds.

Before anyone could make another move, there came the screech of Eagles, Giant Eagles joined the fray, drawing the orc’s gaze. When Azog looked back at to where the five wargs stood, there was nothing there! Not wargs, not dwarves, nothing. As he watched, an Eagle swooped down and gently scooped up Thorin in it’s talons, a barn owl right behind it. The owl’s talons snatched up the dwarf’s oak-branch shield and it glided over to another dwarf, dropping the shield into the dwarf’s arms before latching onto the bald dwarf’s fur mantle, just as the dwarf ran and jumped off the edge of the cliff.

Within seconds the area was clear of dwarves and all that remained were a few Orcs and the still frozen wargs. Azog screamed in rage, that his prey had been taken from him and that his control of the wargs had be ripped apart. He could feel the warg under him shuddering as she tried to regain control of her own mind, eventually even her prodigious strength was no match for the rage of the black warg’s mind and she collapsed, throwing Azog to the ground. The warg’s chest heaved as she fought just to breathe, her mind dominated by the black warg left her weak and vulnerable. Azog would not tolerate that and his mace swung, the white warg’s chest was caved in and she breathed her last. The only other wargs that had not fled also died at the hands of the pale orc, his rage taking the life of any being unfortunate enough to be near him.

 

Kíli clung to his hobbit, even as his brother clung to him and Posy clung to Bilbo. The four of them watched Thorin for signs of life, of movement… but there were none. They flew for hours upon hours, racing east towards the sun. As the night paled into dawn the Eagles still flew, high above the clouds in places, close to the ground in others. At length, they began to circle a pillar of rock, jutting up from a valley on the eastern edges of the Misty Mountains.

Thorin was the first to be set down, the Eagle lowering him as gently as feather lifted on the breeze. Gandalf was next and he was hurrying to the dwarf’s side before the Eagle who bore him was airborne again. Within seconds Bilbo, Kíli, Fíli and Posy were on the ground and they too, headed for Thorin’s side. In less than a minute all the Company stood on the pinnacle of the Carrock, watching as Gandalf used his skills to bring Thorin back to consciousness, a sigh went up as all present saw his eyes open.

“The hobbit?” He gasped, unable to say more.

“It’s alright, Bilbo is here. He’s quite safe.” Gandalf assured him.

Dwalin and Kíli stepped up and supported Thorin as he regained his feet, trying to be as easy as possible on his injuries. Thorin waved and Bilbo gave up holding back, this was his friend, his brother, his king. His arms supported Thorin as the dwarf reached for him, holding him close, they stood like this for some minutes, until Bilbo could feel the trembling of Thorin’s muscles. He signalled to Dwalin and Kíli, who eased Thorin away from the hobbit and lowered him to the ground.

“Bilbo Baggins. I doubted you. When we met, I thought you weak, a vulnerability to my Company. You had skill, yes, but I thought it the skill of a noble who has never faced true battle. I was wrong. You are a warrior and I am honoured to have you at my side.” The king-in-exile stated bluntly.

His words caused smiles and small cheers from many of the Company, Dwalin nodding.

“He’s earned ‘is Warrior’s Bead, fer sure.” The bald guard said. “All six of our hobbits earned their Beads. Frodo and Frerin took down an orc and two wargs between ‘em. Merry and Pippin got a warg apiece. Sam got hisself a pair of orcs.”

“Oh, but it was Posy and Estel that earned it most.” Cut in Dori. “Posy-dear and Estel worked together and they took down three Orcs, without assistance.”

Thorin’s jaw dropped, as did Bilbo’s, even Gandalf showed his surprise. It took a moment, but Thorin looked to Posy and Estel.

“Indeed? Then, we had best hope that this Beorn has a forge, as I have not the beads to commemorate a first battle victory, such as this.” The cheers echoed at Thorin’s words.

“Aye, tha’s all well an’ good, Thorin, but right now? We need to get down off this rock and ye ain’t the only one as is injured. Dori and Bofur have pulled muscles and Ori’s got badly bruised ribs and a yanked shoulder. Who’s got some water? I need to dose these four afore we try and get 'em off o’ here.” Óin butted in, he was pulling Ori’s pack from his back as he spoke.

“I do, Mister Óin.” Estel held out a water-skin and a mug. Óin smiled at the boy and began to give him directions.

“Fill the mug half way and-”

Bilbo left them to it and went with Kíli to look at the steps that lead down from the Carrock. The path looked fairly straightforward and Bilbo’s memory agreed. Frodo approached and a hasty conversation with Kíli, Frerin and the other hobbits was had.

“Óin? The path isn’t all that difficult, but it could exacerbate their injuries.” Frodo said. “Would it cause problems for them if they rode? As wargs we can carry them. Would that help?”

Óin looked at the dark haired hobbit. The lad was usually happy for Bilbo to take the lead, but not this time, it had shaken Frodo to see his beloved uncle go into battle and to see Thorin rendered senseless, was shocking for them all. It was time Frodo stepped up and took some responsibility, Bilbo didn’t have to bear the burden alone.

“Aye, laddie, ‘twould… but are ye alrigh’ wi’ tha’?”

“Yes, Óin. We wouldn’t have offered were it otherwise.” Frodo informed the healer.

“Right, then. Who carries who?”

“We don’t think that they should ride alone, trying to hold themselves still could make things worse, right? So… we think they should have someone ride with them. Bilbo will carry Thorin, with Kíli to keep him steady. I’ll carry Dori and Frerin will ride with him. Merry has offered to carry Ori and Nori. Sam will carry Bofur and Bifur, and Pippin will carry Posy and Estel, as neither of them got much rest over the last couple of nights.”

“Thank ye, laddie. Estel, have ye got that drink mixed yet? Ye have? Good lad. Give it t’ Thorin, make ‘im drink t’ lot.” Óin was already holding a mug to Ori’s mouth as he replied.

The hobbits took the packs of those injured and holding them, they shifted into their warg-forms, Bilbo crouching down as low as he could, so Fíli and Dwalin could help Thorin climb onto his back, Kíli joining him seconds later. The groans from the injured as they were forced onto the backs of the warg-shaped hobbits was enough to bring tears to Posy and Estel’s eyes, but once aboard and Óin’s potions began to work, the injured found that their levels of pain were tolerable.

It took over an hour to reach the base of the Carrock and even then the warg-hobbits kept moving. By mid afternoon, Óin’s potions were beginning to wear off and add to that the warg-shaped hobbits were exhausted, not a one of them wasn’t in near desperate need of rest. At Gandalf’s suggestion the Company made camp close to a stream, well before sunset. One by one, the Company entered the stream and washed away the dirt, grit and grime of the last few days.

After tonight they would be entering the Beornings and that meant no hunting and no meat, so tonight was their last chance for a hot rabbit stew. Frodo and Sam volunteered to hunt before their wash, if someone else did the skinning and gutting, Kíli and Nori offering to do that, Bifur offered to help Posy and Bilbo hunt fresh greens and herbs, with Bombur and Gloín doing the cooking and Dwalin, Balin and Frerin in charge of finding enough firewood.

The next morning Bilbo surprised them all with a rolls of Breakfast bread, stuffed with the last of the bacon and cheese, some potatoes and an egg in each roll. The eggs were a lucky find by Estel, he spotted an area that held the nests of a half dozen pheasants and once Merry and Pippin showed him how to check if an egg held a chick or not, he was able to use Bofur’s hat and bring in a haul of over two dozen eggs. This ensured that everyone got at least one egg and if the four injured, Estel and Posy got two eggs apiece, no one was complaining.

Now all they had to do was to get to Beorn’s without being caught by either Azog’s troops or by Beorn himself. At least this time, they still had some supplies and all their packs. They were in a much better position than the last time Bilbo saw the flat-lands.


	23. In the Garden of the Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time at Beorn's  
> Dwalin, Gloin and Dori help Beorn  
> New Beads for the Hobbits  
> Bilbo Hides... something  
> Kili makes a Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edits - 7-Sept

The Company huddled behind a large clump of rocks, listening as Frodo and Sam reported on the movements of the Orc’s and Beorn. While knew they were being hunted, loosing his wargs should have slowed Azog down, but on the other hand the rage/anger/embarrassment at loosing his wargs **_and_** his prey, would be driving Azog hard, making him push his troops with little regard for their survival.

Right now they were following a ridge line, on the last of the foothills, thankfully for the Company, they were headed in a more northerly direction than Thorin and his people. Hopefully this would buy them enough time for the injured dwarrow to make the safety of Beorn’s House, but the biggest danger to the Company right this moment was Beorn, himself. As the skin-changer in his bear-shape was unpredictable, the company were doing everything they could to keep from being noticed by the him. So far it was working, but Bilbo knew that this would not last long.

With only one last clearing to cross, a roar was heard, Beorn had found them.

“This way! Run!” Called Gandalf, leading the way.

“Frodo and I will open the door.” Bilbo said and with a quick smile at Kíli, the pair of hobbits shifted. The hawk and the lynx quickly left the Company behind as they raced for House and it’s ring of trees, as they reached the gate, both became hobbits again. On quick feet the two hurried to the door and lifted the latch, they pushed the door open and waited. Bilbo grinned at the look of astonishment on Frodo’s face as Bombur, round and fat Bombur, was the first of the dwarrow through the door.

Bombur was quickly followed by Fíli, then Bofur, Kíli, Posy, Estel, Ori, Dori and Dwalin. One after another the dwarrow ran through the door. Bilbo and Frodo ready, they would shut the door, right on the heels of Gandalf and Balin. The door closed silently and with Thorin’s help they barred the entrance, less than a second after the bar fell into place, a resounding crash was heard and the door rattled, the bear’s body hitting the door shook the frame of the whole house. Posy sidled up to Sam and Estel to Dwalin, each of them choosing what they saw as the strongest warrior, to shield them from this unknown danger.

“What was that?” Ori gasped.

“That?... That is our host.” Gandalf said.

Dori pulled Ori away from the door.

“Come away from there, it’s not natural. Is he under some sort of dark spell, Gandalf?”

“No, Master Dori, he is not.” Gandalf assured the fussing dwarf. “Beorn is a skin-changer.”

“Were did he come from?” Ori asked.

“His kind were created by the Valar as guardians of the animals, just as the Ents were the guardians of the trees.” Everyone turned in shock, they were stunned that Pippin would know the origins of the skin-changers. “What? I liked Treebeard, he told us, Merry and me, about the Ents, the skin-changers, the Eagles and the Fin-folk. They were created by the different Valar as the guardians of their realms. The Ents were created by Yavanna to protect the trees, the Skin-changers by Oromë to protect the animals, the Eagles by Manwë to protect the skies and the Fin-folk by Ulmo to protect the oceans.”

“He’d tell us stories every night. I don’t think he ever realised that he rarely finished a tale, before he’d start a new one.” Merry added.

“Well.” Said Gandalf in astonishment. “Ents are real? Still alive, I mean?”

“Oh, yes, Gandalf. Treebeard is the oldest of the Ents and as close to a leader as they have.”

“Ah. Pippin, Merry? Do you know anything more about… was it…Beorl?” Dori asked.

“Beorn, Dori, his name is Beorn. Not really, not much, anyway. You’re better off asking Bilbo that.” Pippin answered.

“Bilbo?”

“Huh?” Bilbo was distracted by a bee the size of his fist. “What? Oh, Beorn? Ah… sometimes he’s a bear and other times, he’s a great strong man. He’s not fond of dwarrow, but he absolutely loathes Orcs. He doesn’t eat meat or allow the hunting of animals on his lands. Which is why we are carrying so much dried meat, we won’t be able to hunt again until after we’re out of Mirkwood.”

“What? Why? Why can’t we hunt in Mirkwood?” Nori asked.

“There’s nothing to hunt in that foul place. The forest is overrun by spiders and for the most part, the elves do nothing about it.” A new voice entered the conversation.

The dwarrow spun, hands falling to weapons, at least until they saw the speaker. The man stood head and shoulders above Gandalf, naked to the waist with heavy canvas trousers tucked into boots strapped to his solid legs. His hair was a great mane that sprouted from his head and spine, ending halfway down his back. He was built with similar proportions to a dwarf and this made his height and breadth even more immense, to the dwarrow and hobbits.

“Ah, Master Beorn.” Gandalf started.

“You five. You are not skin-changers, but… there is something… There is something about you, a Touch of the Valar. What are you?” Beorn ignored the wizard and spoke to the hobbits.

Bilbo and Frodo stepped forward, they looked at each other and Frodo nodded.

“We are hobbits, Master Beorn, but… we are also more. We are Restored, five of us, anyway. Frodo and I,” here Frodo gave a bow, “we travelled to Valinor, before we were Restored, but the other three? They were brought back through time to stand with us.”

“Back through time?” the huge man asked.

“Indeed, Master Beorn. From eighty years into the future. When I sailed for Valinor I was the oldest hobbit on record, I was 131 years old and for a hobbit? That is ancient.”

“There is a story in that comment, little bunny.”

“Oh, there most certainly is, but not just in that comment. The Valar gave us gifts, Master Beorn, fantastic, unbelievable gifts.” Bilbo took a deep breath. “The Valar made us shape-shifters.”

“You are skin-changers? You do not smell like skin-changers.” The man growled.

“No. We are shape-shifters. There is a difference, Master Beorn.”

“What difference?” The man still growled.

“Well… the biggest difference is that we can change into more than one animal each.”

“More? Each? How?”

“No idea. In Valinor we talked to Irmo, Tulkas and Manwë and they gave us two shifts each.”

“What are they?”

“Master Beorn, allow us to rest and treat our injured and we are more than happy to tell our tale.”

The huge man looked at the hobbit, then he turned and looked at each dwarrow or hobbit in turn, he saw their exhaustion, the way their wounded favoured their injuries, he saw the fear and determination on their faces. He nodded and gestured to the kitchen area at the end of the great-room.

“There’s bread and milk and cream and honey and butter and eggs. Eat, rest. Treat your wounded. After I hear your tale, I will see to beds for you.”

“Our thanks, Master Beorn.”

“Tell me your tale, little bunny.”

“Of course. Kíli, be a dear and grab something for me?”

“Yes, [amrâl](love).” The young dwarf was carrying an enormous jug of milk to the table as he answered.

“I’d best start at the beginning, hadn’t I? Right, then. I was born on the 22th of September in the bathroom of Bag End. Mother said that I was impatient from the get go and wouldn’t wait for the midwife to arrive.-” Bilbo told the skin-changer of his life and of his ending up in Valinor.

When he finished, the skin-changer just sat and looked at him.

“There’s more to this than what you’ve just told me.”

“There is, but that is not my tale to tell. And while it will be told, that won’t happen just yet, Master Beorn. There are things that **_must_** happen, before the rest comes out.”

The man hummed and continued to study the hobbit, he watched as the young dark dwarf brought a plate of fried honey-cakes and a mug of honey-tea.

“You may stay here until your injured are well, but… Know my rules. No meat. No hunting. No harming my animals. Abide by this and you may stay.”

“Master Beorn?” An older dwarf approached, alike enough to the young dark one, to be kin. “We thank you for you hospitality and I would have you know that we appreciate it greatly. Might I ask a request of you?”

“You may ask, but I do not know how I shall answer.” The man replied.

“As you say. Do you have a forge, here, that I and my dwarrow might use?”

“A forge? There is one here, but it has not been used in decades. I have no idea of it’s condition. Why do you want a forge, dwarf?”

“It is a tradition of our people that when a dwarf faces battle for the first time, a Bead of Izlif is made from steel is made to commemorate any kills in that battle. Two nights ago, we faced Azog and his Orcs on an outcropping in the Misty Mountains and we were forced to fight for our lives. It was the first true taste of battle for many of us here and I would make Beads for them.” Here Thorin hesitated for a moment. “Also if you wish it, I would remove the shackle from your wrist.”

The man looked at him.

“You think you can remove this? It was welded into place.”

“As long as the forge can be fired and there is an anvil in place, it can be removed. There are many techniques that I can use and I would do this… not as thanks but as something that any just person should do.”

“Hmm… Most of my out building are to the East of my House. The forge, I’ve never used… it stands at the rear of the House and it is yours for as long as you need it.”

“Thank you Master Beorn. Dwalin? Take Gloín, Bifur, Fíli and Kíli and check it out, please. We shall not impose on Master Beorn longer than we must.”

“Aye.” Dwalin replied and with a nod he and the four other dwarrow left.

“Thorin?” Posy appeared at Thorin’s side.

“Posy-dear? Have you eaten?” The dwarf was instantly caring and gentle.

“Yes, Thorin, but you haven’t and Óin wants to see to your wounds. Please come?” The she-hobbit looked at him with those vibrant green eyes and he was unable to deny her. She took his hand and lead him away.

“The she-bunny? She is yours? And what of the Man-child?”

“Oh, Posy’s no bunny, Master Beorn. Our Posy is a warg cub, both of them are.” A blonde dwarf assured him with a grin.

“Warg? Why would you say that?”

A few smiles were shared among the dwarrow and the hobbits, before the dark haired hobbit, Frodo he thought, spoke.

“Posy is uncommonly good, for a hobbit that is, with weapons and while she cannot shift, as we other four can, she is quite capable of using blades to get the same result. Estel’s people are of the rangers of the north and while we did not expect to have him join us, he is with us now and we will do whatever we can to see that he remains safe.”

“Why did you not leave him somewhere, then?”

“Ah… that’s another story. I would need to ask Posy for permission to tell you, as it is her tale and it is not a pleasant one.” Bilbo added.

“Tell him, Uncle.” Posy’s voice drifted across the room.

“Are you sure, dear?” Bilbo asked.

“Yes, Uncle Bilbo.”

“Alright, Master Beorn. As we journeyed from my home in Hobbiton we passed through a number of hobbit settlements and at one of them there was a delegation waiting to speak-”

Bilbo with quiet calm told of how Posy’s family were killed, of her Fade and how he, Bilbo, became her guardian, he told their time in Rivendell and of Estel joining them, of their leaving Rivendell and Estel, of leaving Posy in the care of Estel’s foster father. Estel joined him and told the skin-changer of Posy’s Fade beginning again and the reactions of the elves. He told of his plan and that of his foster brothers and of bringing Posy to Bilbo. Of the days spent walking, following the Company, of watching Posy gain strength each day as they got closer to those she now called family. He told of Dwalin’s reaction to Posy throwing a knife at a spider and of Bilbo’s anger at someone he trusted, drugging a child.

Beorn growled low and viciously when he heard this, but his smile returned as Bilbo and Estel spoke of the she-hobbit’s joy the next day at waking surrounded by the ones she had chosen as family. Estel told of the splitting of the Company and of the hobbits journey over the Mountains and re-joining the Company, he told also of the fight with Azog’s Orcs. Of how Posy saw her beloved Bilbo stand between the pale orc and Thorin, of seeing rage blossom on her sweet face. How Posy, with Estel less than a heartbeat behind, attacked the Orcs that dared to threaten their family, of their instinctive understanding of the each other’s movements, of working seamlessly to bring their enemies down.

Estel’s joy and awe at riding on the backs of Giant Eagles, brought a smile to the faces of all those listening and Balin, who had shared the Eagle’s back with him, added that the lad would often scream in delighted fear as the Giant birds swooped and changed directions. Even the subsequent hike and mad dash to reach the safety of Beorn’s House couldn’t dampen the boy’s remembered joy.

After hearing these tales, the huge man sat and pondered his unexpected guests and their quest. The hobbit spoke of riddling with the dragon, of bargaining with the elven king, but the sadness in the hobbit’s eyes, as he spoke of the death of his dwarf and the other royals, was gut-wrenching… and unexpected. The skin-changer decided that he would help the little ones in saving their dwarrow and the dwarrow in protecting their home.

An hour later Dwalin and his crew returned from the forge.

“It’s not bad. A day’s work and it’ll be ready for firing, a night of burning and it’ll be ready to use.” Dwalin assured a freshly bandaged Thorin.

“Are there any tools? I’ve not anticipated needing any and so had not brought them.” Thorin admitted.

“Aye. There’s some basics. A decent large hammer and a few pair of tongs. A good pair of smaller hammers suitable for finer work. There’s a set of files and an engraving kit, there’s no moulds, though and only three small smelting pots. But… there’s no oil for tempering.”

“What of the bellows? And fuel?”

“Nay, they’re fine, some of the leather is dry, but not cracked. Some lard or grease, tonight and again tomorrow and they should be fine by the time the forge is ready for use. And there’s enough fuel for to last a month or more. It’s not a large forge, Thorin, certainly it’s big enough for a farmstead, but it’s still nothing near to those in Ered Luin or the Blue Mountains.” Gloín informed Thorin.

“Size isn’t a concern at this point, Gloín, what matters is that it’s usable. Will you and the lads see to that? Óin won’t let Bofur or I out there for at least the next day or two.”

“Aye. We’ll get it ready.” Gloín and Dwalin both assured him.

“Thank you, Gloín, Dwalin. I’ll ask Beorn if he’s got any wax that we can have, I would have Bilbo and Fíli can carve wax beads, we can use them to make a wax-loss mould.” Thorin reminded them.

Beorn had been listening with half an ear to the conversations and so it was no surprise when a few minutes later, Thorin approached and asked for a large candle or some bee’s wax. As the description he’d heard piqued his curiosity, he had no hesitation in handing over a pair of long, fine candles.

Over the next few hours, he watched as a blonde dwarf and Bilbo used knives with tiny blades to carve a series of beads, each had a pair of pine trees and from there each bead was slightly different. Some had the clawed hand holding a bone, the symbol that the dwarrow used to represent Orcs and some had the crossed claw and fang symbol used to represent wargs. Two had symbols for an orc and a pair of wargs, two had the symbol for a single warg each, one had the symbol for two orcs and two had symbols for three Orcs. But it was the final bead that drew Beorn’s eyes, it had the fang and claw but instead of them being crossed, they were shown as two distinct symbols and separated by a pine tree on one side and a orc symbol on the other side.

When he asked, Beorn was told that separating the fang and claw indicated the removal of an entire pack of wargs and that this symbol has only ever been used twice before, once by Frórin, the brother of Thorin’s grandfather Thrór and once by Gârek Pack-splitter, the dwarf that had been the Captain of the Guard for Nain, Thorin’s grandfather’s grandfather. That Bilbo, little, sweet, gentle, Bilbo had earned this particular combination? Beorn struggled to get his mind around it.

Beorn watched as Bilbo continued to carve, even after the waxen beads were completed.

“What do you carve, now, little bunny?” His curiosity got the better of him.

“Buttons, Master Beorn. I’ve lost a few on our travels and I thought I’d take advantage of the forge to made some new one. That and my trouser buttons aren’t the right type, not when you wear greaves over them, the shanks tend to dig in and make them a little uncomfortable.”

“And you’re carving them from wax?”

“Oh, yes. Tomorrow, I’ll go down to the creek and get some nice sticky clay and make myself a few moulds. Then, whoever’s doing the smelting in the forge, only has to pour the molten metal into the moulds and my buttons will be almost complete. They’ll just need a little filing and finishing, before they’re ready to wear.”

“I would like to see this process. When I want buttons, I carve them from oak or beech. Not from wax.”

“Understandable and most hobbits would say the same, even some of my companions, but I have had nearly eighty years to learn to think otherwise.”

“Why would a hobbit want to think otherwise, little bunny?”

“Ah… Master Beorn, do you know of Heart Bonds?”

“I do.” The big man said sadly.

“Well, then. I am Heart Bonded with a dwarf. When we reclaim Erebor, Kíli and I will be Bound together and our hearts will beat as one. When his heart stops, so will mine.”

“Why wait?”

“There’s a few reasons, really. One, his age; by dwarrow reckoning, Kíli is young, just past his coming of age. This quest is giving him maturity and confidence he will need as a Prince of Erebor. Second? There’s no way, either of us would Bond without his mother present. Third? As a prince, Kíli can only be Bound by a King… and as yet Thorin hasn’t been crowned and he’s the closest we have to a King, just yet. Fourth? Think of the people of Erebor, returning home, home to see a King crowned, to see a Prince Bonded. Please understand, Beorn, Heart Bonds are rare for dwarrow… and to have three in one family? It’s almost unheard of… even if they haven’t all figured it out, yet.”

“Three? Who are the other two dwarrow?”

Bilbo said nothing but just pointed out the two oblivious dwarrow. Beorn grinned as he saw what Bilbo meant.

 

The next morning, when Bilbo asked permission for the hobbits to shift and stretch, Beorn was keen to see these shape-shifters in action. Some of the dwarrow left to work on the forge and others pulled their gear out to clean and repair, while yet others joined the hobbits and the skin-changer as they made their way to the area Beorn used for the cutting of firewood.

The curiosity of the younger hobbits and the man-child were boundless it seemed, they darted from this to that and all of them attempted to lift the skin-changers great axe, none of them having any success, but it did nothing to stem their exuberance. Finally, the blonde hobbit that Beorn thought of as older or more mature, called a stop to their games. The dwarrow settled themselves down and picked up whatever hand work they’d brought along, be it darning, a notebook, some knitting, or some whittling.

“Bilbo? Remember what Frerin said? About carrying the packs? Can we try that?” Frodo asked.

“Bilbo? I had a thought last night and I wanna talk about fighting with our shifts. But can we try Frerin’s thing first?” Pippin added.

“Let me see… Frerin? You said something about… tying the packs together and laying them over our warg backs. Was that right?”

“Kind of, Bilbo. I know that as a hobbit you can carry our pack and shift, but what about carrying something once you’ve shifted and then shifting back to hobbits or to your other form?” The blonde dwarf asked.

All five hobbits looked at the dwarf blankly.

“No idea.” Said Bilbo and Frodo, together.

“Can we try it? If it works, then once we enter Mirkwood, if the packs are on the wargs, then no one can loose or misplace their pack and everyone will be unburdened if we need to fight.”

“Hold up. We can’t afford to loose anything. So, we can’t us our pack to practice.” Bilbo cut short their excitement.

“Well what can we do?” asked Pippin.

“Pip, you, Sam Posy and Estel, go get some of that really long grass, down by the bee hives. We’ll use that to plait into cord. Bilbo, Frodo, Frerin and I will hunt up some branches or logs that we can use in place of packs. If it works, then we can give them back to Beorn, but if it doesn’t then we haven’t lost anything important.” Merry was the one to take charge of their experiment, today.

“Can we shift anyway?” Pippin asked. The more Pippin shifted and let his Pine Marten self run about and burn off the excess energy, the calmer he was as a hobbit.

“Of course, Pip, just don’t get lost. Alright?”

Pippin didn’t bother to respond, he just shimmered and as his Pine Marten self tore off between Merry’ legs, tugging on Estel’s boot laces as he went past, Beorn blinked in surprise at the speed of the hobbit’s shift.

The rest of the morning was spent playing around with their shifts, testing how fast they could shift from one form to another, learning to shift from warg to their totem shift and back again. Shifting on the move, could they take one step as a hobbit and the next be a warg and the next be a lynx or wolf? In the case of Sam and Frodo, they also practiced shifting in the air, jumping as a hobbit and flying off as their bird-self or being in flight and shifting to a warg and landing on the run. At Frerin and Thorin suggestion, they also tried being armed as hobbits, shifting to warg, to bird or beast and back to hobbit, still holding weapons in their hands.

Lunchtime rolled around and the arrival of Dwalin and the forge crew, reminded Bilbo and Frerin that they needed clay to make moulds for the [Izlif](commemoration) beads and for Bilbo’s buttons. Beorn took the pair around the side of his house and showed them his pottery shed, with it’s huge kiln and the tub of damp clay, ready for use.

Making the moulds for the beads was a simple process. Frerin and Bilbo had carved wax model of the beads from a single candle, instead of the wick running through the centre of the beads, it joined all the beads together along one side. This way the wax could be melted and drained from the mould and the wick removed, then the molten metal poured in through the cavity left behind by the wick. When the metal was cooled, the mould would be shattered and each bead cut from the metal that joined them together.

The moulds for Bilbo’s buttons were slightly different. A long square piece of clay, like a brick was formed, using one of Beorn’s square frame-moulds, once free of the mould, Bilbo gently used a fine skewer to marks up one side and poke a series of holes down into the clay, to use as guides and once cooled, these would be the shanks for the buttons. Next he used a strand of fine wire to slice the brick lengthways and peeled off the upper slab. In the lower section of clay, he pushed the wax-carved button firmly into the clay, leaving a negative impression behind. The two halves would be dried and re-joined before the metal was added. These moulds would be dried on timber shelves above the newly fired forge for the night, before being used the next day.

This entire process was repeated until Bilbo had five slabs that each had ten voids ready for molten metal to be poured into. Then, he did this a sixth time, but this time he turned the upper section of the mould cut face down and using a narrow clay scrapper, he removed a fine section of clay around each shank hole. Bilbo explained that this would be filled the same as the other buttons, but that this mould would create a cuff-button.

Cuff-buttons are different to normal buttons in that they are used where a button would press hard against a delicate area. They were a variation on a cuff-link, they had a button front, then a shank, but then they had another flat surface, exactly the same size as the button front but with a completely flat surface. To use, the button would go through a button hole of a garment and then it would be used the same as an ordinary button, joining two layers of fabric together.

 

That evening the entirety Company were present at the firing of the forge. Their host was quite pleased at what the dwarrow had done with the forge area. He was not alone in wanting to see the forge in full use. No one wanted to go to bed that night and after a bit of grumbling and whining, the hobbits and the dwarrow not on forge-shift were chivvied off to bed.

The next day Bilbo was the first to enter the forge. He nodded to Frerin, who was on last forge-shift, as he carefully reached for the mould for his cuff-buttons.

“What are you up to, Baggins?” The dwarf asked.

Bilbo gave him a quick grin and pulled a pouch from under his cloak.

“This, Frerin, is the reason behind these buttons.” He said opening the pouch and retrieving a flat, circular disk-like object, wrapped in a fine Mithril ribbon, like the one he wore as part of Kíli’s Courting Braid.

“What’s that? It looks like a coin or a-”

“Stop.” Bilbo cut him off. “Let me do this first and then I’ll tell you.” Bilbo pulled a very fine piece of wire from another pocket, he bent the wire into two tiny hooks and rested them in the fine indentations on each side of one button blank. He then with extreme care placed the disk on the hooks, using a pair of tweezers to make the disk sit exactly in the centre of the blank, not touching any surface but the wire hooks.

“Bilbo, that wire’s going to melt.”

“I know, Frerin, but by the time it has, it will have done what I need it to, which is hold this, until the outer edges of the mould starts to cool. I need this,” he pointed at the disk, “to be completely covered by metal, not visible at all.”

“Well, the best way to do that is to pour a little steel into the mould and let it start to cool, before adding that, then close the mould all the way and pour in the rest of the metal.”

“I know that, but… I need this to not been seen by the others.”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you, not yet, Frerin. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“Is this about the ‘thing’? Has that… that… disk got something to do with the ‘thing’?”

“Yes.” Was all Bilbo said.

Frerin gazed at him steadily for a few moments, before moving off to one side and grabbing a tiny smelting pot, he picked up the bucket of steel pieces that Dwalin and Gloín had cut up the day before and choosing a tiny piece, he placed it in the smelting pot and using tongs pushed the pot into the heart of the forge. It took a few minutes before he was happy with the consistency of the molten metal. A few drops were dripped into the button blank and the smelt pot returned to the fire. They did this a few time until Bilbo was able to position the disk to his satisfaction, a few more drops of metal and the disk was secure. Bilbo used some damp clay to cover the indents where he’d planned on having the wire hooks rest and the upper half of the mould was put in place.

As the hobbit and the dwarf secured the two halves together, they heard the first boots approach the forge.

“Timing.” Frerin whispered with a grin.

Bilbo glanced over his shoulder and added his own grin, Thorin looked asleep on his feet but right behind him, the rest of the Company were munching on bread and boiled eggs.

“Let’s just finish these, Frerin.” Bilbo stated, speaking in a normal voice.

“What are those, Bilbo? Frodo asked.

“These are cuff-buttons, Frodo. The ones on my trousers don’t sit right under my greaves, so I thought I’d take advantage of the forge and make some new ones.” As he answered, Bilbo held the mould with tongs, for Frerin to pour the liquid steel into. Thankfully the dwarrow were distracted by trying to work out just what cuff-buttons were, to notice that the first button mould only took half the amount of steel need to fill the other moulds.

“Kíli? Would you reach down the other mould pieces, please? We may as well do all of them.” Bilbo’s request deflected the attention of the dwarrow again.

Within minutes all of Bilbo’s button moulds were filled and cooling and it was time to cast the [Izlif](commemoration) beads. The hobbits were surprised to find there was no ceremony nor specific verse employed in the making of beads. Balin held the mould as Dwalin poured the melted steel into it, then the advisor carefully handed the tongs and mould to his brother and stepped away from the forge.

“No, lads.” Thorin assured them. “Warrior’s Beads are not like any other Beads. There is no ceremony, nor prayer. It’s a simple everyday task we’re completing, just like being a warrior is a part of who we are, an everyday part of us, we don’t need special words or metals, being a warrior is a simple thing, unblemished by decoration. That’s why the Beads, themselves are steel, like our weapons and like our weapons they have no more decoration on them, than is needed to identify what is claimed and where it happened.”

“Don’t forget the maker’s mark, Thorin.” Frerin cut in.

“Aye, nadad. A warrior’s bead cannot be made by oneself, it must be made by another, one who is already a warrior.”

“But Frerin and Bilbo made these beads.” Merry said.

“Not quite, Merry. Frerin and Bilbo only made the wax bead positives. Dwalin, as the highest ranking warrior, who actually participated in the battle, has placed his signature mark on each. Thus, any who question the wearer’s right to that Bead has to face Dwalin with their doubts.”

“And let’s be honest, what dwarrow warrior is going to doubt Dwalin Fundinul?” Nori quipped good naturedly.

“Aye, there’ll few takers.” Bofur grinned.

“And Dwalin will be the one to finish these Beads, he poured the metal into the mould and he will break the mould once it’s cooled. He will remove them and see to their cleaning and polishing. Then he will come to each of you and add a warrior’s Braid with the Bead one inch from the end of the Braid. This is the **_only_** time someone not your spouse, not the person you are courting, someone not of your family, is permitted to braid your hair. It is not a formal event, but like braiding your hair for yourself, it is a simple event. After the initial Braiding, it’s up to you redo the braid. We will show you how and help until you master it. Bilbo, if you wish, after Dwalin has added the initial braid, Kíli may redo it for you, as you are Courting, you both have the right to braid the other’s hair.”

“Thank you, Thorin, I think we may do just that.” Bilbo smiled at Kíli’s rapidly nodding head.

“As you wish. Now, Dwalin and Gloín will stay here and push the forge to it’s highest heat. The rest of us will get some breakfast and then… we’ll see about removing your unwanted accoutrements, Beorn. The forge needs to be a lot hotter than it is currently, if we’re to break that iron.” Thorin warned.

Two hours later and the shackle sat, broken, on the anvil. It was a lot stronger than the dwarrow had suspected and it had taken the combined strength of Dwalin, Gloín and Dori to break it. They’d had to heat and cool the band, rapidly, to get it brittle enough to crack and then it was up to brute strength to force the hinge to move. Dwalin and Gloín each held one end of one arm of a pair of tongs, threaded under the shackle and Dori on the other side with another pair of tongs. Beorn was stunned at the sheer power in the arms of the silver-haired dwarf, it was possible that Dori’s strength equalled even his.

“Ah… What do we do with it, now?” Ori asked.

“Huh, do you know? I have no idea. I never expected to be free of it.” Beorn muttered.

“Leave it with me. I’ll reforge it… into something useful.” Kíli said. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Oh, Mahal help us all.” Thorin muttered.

“For that, you can stay and watch, Irak'Adad. The rest of you… get lost. Dwalin, Bilbo? Those moulds should be ready to be dunked and then broken, you wanna take them and the engraving kit? You can bugger off and get outta my workspace.” Kíli grinned.

Dwalin and Bilbo looked at each other and nodded. Without a word being said the two gathered up all the moulds in a basket and a small timber box, containing the engraving tools. Bilbo hugged Kíli and touched his forehead to the young dwarf’s, before turning to Thorin and touching foreheads with him, too. Fíli picked up the basket and left at a run, with Dwalin and Bilbo hot on his heels, Dwalin yelling insults and Bilbo laughing.

The hobbit and the warrior dwarf would spend a pleasant day, polishing and finishing both buttons and beads. Bilbo waited until Dwalin went to fetch a drink to pull out the cuff-buttons, he used a fine engraving blade to etch a symbol on each one. The symbols were Khuzdul numbers for 7, 10, 45, 51, 78, 90, 111 and 131. Only he knew what one of these buttons contained and which one it was.

Supper that night was a festive event, with Sam, Merry and Bombur having taken over Beorn’s kitchen and raided his vegetable patch. Pies, tarts, stews and baked squashes and root vegetables. Desserts weren’t forgotten either, with biscuits, fruit tarts, puddings and sweet breads. Beorn broke out a batch of mead and he’d had even offered up a jug of his apple cider, for their pleasure, too.

Between dinner and dessert, Kíli stood and called for attention.

“Oi, listen up!” He cried. “Look here, lads. Beorn, you opened you house and forge to us. You provided us with beds, with food, with a forge and let our hobbits raid your garden. To celebrate new friendships forged, I spent the day sweating away, turning a painful reminder into a welcoming gift.”

For the first time, Bilbo, the hobbits and Beorn, saw Kíli’s skill. The young prince didn’t wear his Iron-smith’s Master’s Beads for no reason. Kíli had taken the harsh, brutal shackle that Beorn had worn for who knew how long and turned it into an amazing door knocker.

A bear’s foot with sharp claws, was the actual knocker and the backing-plate was in the shape of an oak-leaf. Clean strong lines and delicate scrollwork, the in a contrast of styles that blended so well, the knocker told the story of who it’s owner was. A bear surrounded by oak trees.

Beorn’s smile lit the room.

“A welcoming gift, indeed.” His fingers traced the lines of the leaf. “This shall take pride of place on my front door.” A hint of moisture in the skin-changer’s eye gave Thorin a reason to speak out.

“Master Beorn, the friendship we have forged here, is not likely to ever be forgotten. I know that when we depart, we shall do so with a heavy heart. Our nights in your House have been among the most comfortable we’ve had since leaving Bilbo’s and Hobbiton. And while we may only have another two nights here, they will be nights of joy and tranquillity.”

“I shall sorrow to see you leave, but know that you will always be welcome here.” The huge man told them.

The night continued and, probably quite a lot later than recommended, Bilbo eventually dragged Posy and Estel off to their beds. And knowing that the next day was going to be a frantic one, Bilbo and the hobbits weren't that far behind the younglings.

 

 

Khuzdul = (K)                       Quenyan = (Q)          Green Tongue (G)     Sindarin (S)

 

 _tailë rotas_ = extension tubes (Q)

izlif = commemoration (K)


	24. Letters and Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letters to Dis  
> Frerin asks a question  
> Frodo gets a shock  
> A letter to Thorin  
> Into Mirkwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added 26-Aug  
> edits - 7-Sept

Nearly 1200 mile to the west of Mirkwood Forest and a week earlier, a young redheaded dwarf accepted a letter from a raven, he politely thanked the bird and headed for the office of Lady Dís... whom he called Aunt, even though she was his father’s cousin.

“Aunt Dís? A raven brought a letter from Uncle Thorin.” He said, entering the open door of her office.

“No… Just no.” Was the reply.

“Aunt Dís?”

“Sorry, lad, but after dealing with that, that **_idiot_** , that thinks he can trade badly smelted ore for completed weapons, weight for weight? I’ve not the patience to try and decode one of Thorin’s cryptic messages… not today.”

“Ah” Gimli sat quietly for a bit, but finally his curiosity got the better of him. He really wanted to know what his cousins and father were up to, the last message was sent just as Thorin reached Hobbiton in the Shire.

“Aunt Dís?”

“Yes, lad?”

“Can I read it?”

“You can try, if you want, Gimli. But fair warning? Thorin has a habit of assuming that the reader knows what going through his head, before he puts ink to paper, it makes puzzling out what he’s on about, very difficult.”

“Alright. But I can try?”

“Go right ahead.” She waved him to the spare desk under the window.

“Thanks!” Gimli hurried over and sat down, he slipped a letter opener under the wax seal and opened the envelope.

Three pieces of paper fell out, each with different handwriting on them, the first had that mish-mash of writing that said it was from Fíli and Kíli, the second had the bold heavy strokes from Thorin’s hand, but the third? He didn’t recognise the third handwriting, so he put that aside, he would read Thorin’s and his cousins’ first.

**Dís,**

**We’re in Rivendell and have been for the last 3 ½ weeks. We’ll leave here in the morning, so I feel safe now in telling you what has happened.**

**Tharkûn met us in Bree on the 15 th of April and told us the burglar was expecting us on the 26th of that month. He travelled with us and we reached Hobbiton late on the 24th and got rooms at an Inn, Tharkûn went off the next morning, I assume to see the burglar. He returned and told Dwalin, Óin, Fíli, Kíli and I to follow him.**

**We met the burglar, he wasn’t what I expected, he was a soft little thing, looked more like a grocer than a burglar, but fair waring? Don’t cross him, he’s got a mean left hook, rattled my teeth he did, on more than one occasion. He told us that the contract for Nas of Bag End wasn’t just for him, apparently ‘Nas’ is a hobbit phrase that means family. Bloody Tharkûn had hired us a whole family of burglars!**

**Bilbo Baggins is the head of the Nas and it was he that we met, at first. He told us that he and four other members of the Nas were Restored. The Valar Restored them, just to travel with us, their task is to help us reclaim Erebor. In preparing for this Bilbo traded with their ‘Mathon-House’ (I think it’s a museum), translating elven medical records for any dwarrow items in the building.**

**We stayed one night in Bag End, it took some talking, but Bilbo convinced me that the whole Nas would travel with us. That meant the Company increased by six, but Bilbo had told Tharkûn that the Nas would fund their own outfit, including gear and ponies. That night Bilbo gifted us with a number of dwarrow items, nearly all of them heirlooms of the Line of Durin. Beads, swords, daggers, bows, Frerin, throwing axes, knives, quiver-scabbards, armour and even a battle axe. How they came to be there I don’t know.**

**The five hobbits are strange creatures, Dís, Bilbo is the Head of the Nas, it was a shock to find that he is the grandson of Thain Gerontius Took, just as three of the other lads are, but none of them consider themselves to be royalty, to them it’s just family, nothing more. The fourth fellow is a loyal retainer of Bag End.**

**We added a little she-hobbit before we left the Shire, she’d been attacked and her father killed, she retreated, mentally and the hobbits of the village asked us, or rather Bilbo to take her to Rivendell for healing, we couldn’t leave her there, n** **a** **n** **á** **, even Dwalin and Óin agreed. She’s tiny, just over 3’6”, masses of Mithril-blonde hair and the Bounders had papers that made Bilbo her guardian, as she’s nearly 7 years from her majority. The hobbit that attacked her and killed her father was executed, Bilbo tells us it’s the first execution in over 800 years.**

**I’m almost out of paper - and time, so I’ll try and keep it short.**

**We had to deal with a band of three mountain trolls, in the Trollshaws no less, and we emptied their hoard, on our way to Rivendell, thanks to the Restored Nas, we had little trouble and only two injured, Bombur yanked his back (Bilbo _walked_ on him and fixed it) and Pippin (one of the Restored hobbits) twisted an ankle badly. Elrond of Rivendell healed him and has been working with Posy (the attacked hobbit child) and he feels that she’ll recover completely.**

**The boys are fine, they’ve putting their own letters in.**

**I miss you, nan** **á** **.**

**Thorin**

**Oh, give Kíli a hard time, too, please. He should have had Courting Bead made and he didn’t, he had to use a plain hair-clasp to tie off Bilbo’s Courting Braid. He did make a Bead once we reached Rivendell, though, but Bilbo’s for Kíli was a surprise. It’s Mithril, nan** **á** **, Mithril and the hobbit etched Erebor on it, if he submitted it, it would get Bilbo his Master’s Bead.**

**I have to go, it’s time for supper and nothing gets between a hobbit and food.**

 

Gimli was confused. He reread the letter, but he was no closer to understanding.

“Aunt Dís?”

“Yes, Gimli?” She sighed.

“Uncle Thorin’s letter is pretty straightforward, but there’s one reference I don’t get.”

“What is it?”

“He talks about heirlooms of the Line of Durin, ‘ **Beads, swords, daggers, bows, Frerin, throwing axes, knives, quiver-scabbards, armour and even a battle axe’** he says. But what’s a ‘Frerin’, Aunt Dís?”

“A what?” Dís wasn’t taking that much notice and thought she’d misheard.

“A Frerin, Thorin mentions one, but what is it?”

“A **_what?!”_** she screeched, up out of her chair reaching for the letter. She read it through once… and a second time… a third time, before picking up the other two letters and reading them. As she dropped them back onto the desk in front of Gimli, she swore.

“[ ** _Kakh_** ** _â_**](Crap/shit) ** _[f](Crap/shit)! [Ignêg-ê saflilmîn tada ihkirî nadadu amê!](I'm%20going%20to%20skin%20that%20accursed%20brother%20of%20mine) _** Let’s go find your mother, Gimli.”

 

Bilbo sat, needle and thread in hand, sewing on the last of his new buttons. The cuff-buttons, he’d already put through the buttonholes in the legs of his trousers and tried the greaves over them and he was quite happy with the results.

Knowing that the Ring was where no one could use the damned thing, was heartening. Knowing that he could sit beside anyone and not have that person aware of the Ring, was good. Knowing that if Thranduil didn’t heed Irmo’s dreams and captured them, that even if he stripped them of every piece of armour, weaponry, tool, belt, chain or Bead, Bilbo would still retain the Ring? This was a relief.

As Bilbo finished tying off the last button, Frerin joined him at the stumps and slab of timber that Beorn used as a table and stools outside.

“Morning Frerin. You’re out early this fine morning.” Bilbo chirped

“[Galikh baknu](Good%20morning), Bilbo.” Frerin spoke to Bilbo, as usual, in Khuzdul before changing to Weston. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m here. Talk away, I’ll listen.” He began to pack the sewing kit.

“No, Bilbo. This is important.”

Bilbo stopped repacking things into the sewing kit and turned to Frerin.

“Very well. What is it you wished to speak about, Frerin?”

“Bilbo, you are the Head of your Family, of the Nas? Head of Family for the hobbits travelling with us?”

“Yes and yes… and no. Wait… I’ll explain. Yes, I am the Head of the Baggins Family. Yes, the lads have acknowledged me as the Head of the Nas. No, I’m not the Head of Family for Merry or Pippin. Merry’s a Brandybuck and Pippin’s a Took. But they’ve all agreed that I am the senior hobbit in our Nas. Does that help?”

“Yes, thank you. It does.” Frerin sighed in relief. “I wish to speak to both you and Thorin, I woke him earlier and he should be out here in a minute.”

Bilbo had a fair idea what this was about, but he wasn’t going to spoil Frerin’s resolve. So, he waited patiently for Thorin to join them, tucking the needle-case and thread back into the sewing kit.

When Thorin made his way outside, he was a sight to see, trousers on, barefoot, shirt inside out, hair not yet combed and with sleep creases still clear on his face. He also carried a tray with mugs and rolls of Bilbo’s stuffed breakfast bread. He put the tray down on the slab-table and waved from Frerin and Bilbo to the table.

“G’morn’ng.” He mumbled.

“Good morning, nadad.” Frerin grinned as he greeted his brother.

“Morning, Thorin.” Bilbo added.

“You awake, yet, Thorin?” Frerin asked.

“Yea…eah.” Thorin yawned as he answered.

“Really? I **_need_** you to be awake, brother.” Frerin dropped the humour and spoke seriously.

“I’m awake, Frerin. Now, what’s this all about?” Thorin muttered.

“I wish to speak to the two of you. You are the Heads of your respective Families and as per the customs our people, I approach you with a request. Thorin, I have found my [Mudtu Bassul](Hear%20Bond). You are King to our people and older brother to me and I would ask your consent to Court.” Frerin’s voice was soft and shook slightly.

“Frerin, I can see no reason for such a request to be denied. Nadad, you have, not only my consent, but also my thanks.”

“Thanks? Thanks for what?” Frerin didn’t understand.

“Nori’s been holding a book on when you would finally get you head out of the sand… and I just won an entire pot of Sam’s ox-tail stew.” Thorin told them.

“What?! Thorin!” Frerin was dumb-founded.

“Now, now, nadad. Don’t you have something to ask Bilbo?” Thorin was grinning, ear to ear.

“Humf. Maybe I shouldn’t, now. If I don’t go any further, do you loose the rest of the wager?”

“No, nadad. I wagered only that you would approach for consent, nothing about whether or not you do anything more.”

“Alright, Thorin. That’s enough, leave him be.” Bilbo chided.

“Yes, Bilbo.” Thorin continued to grin, even as he reached for a breakfast roll.

Frerin turned to Bilbo and took a deep breath.

“Bilbo Baggins, you are the Head of Family for the Baggins family and for the Nas of Bag End. I would like your consent to approach Frodo Baggins, he is my [Mudtu Bassul](Heart%20Bond) and I would offer him my Courtship.”

“Frerin of the Line of Durin. Like your brother, I see no reason to deny you consent, but unlike your brother… **_I_** didn’t place a wager on the matter. Frodo is a good lad and I believe the two of you are well matched. Might I suggest that while the forge is still burning, you spend the day making your Courting Beads?” Bilbo smiled gently at the blonde dwarf.

“Thank you, both of you. I’ve sketched his Beads, but I’ve not the metal to use.” Frerin started.

“What metal would you like, Frerin? Silver? Gold? Mithril?” Thorin asked. “You are a prince of Erebor, nadad. I would give you whatever you choose.”

“Silver would be my choice, Thorin. I would dearly like a gem or two to set into it, only I have none. Nor did I complete my apprenticeship in Gem-Smithing before Azanulbizar.” Frerin sighed.

“You will finish it, nadad, one day. You were **_injured_** , Frerin, and people turned their backs on you because of **_that_** , it was no fault of yours. You can finish your apprenticeship, nadad. Nori has his Mastery in Gem-Smithing, perhaps we could ask if he would consider taking you as an apprentice? At the least you could ask him to advise you in making Frodo’s Beads. Think about it anyway.” Thorin stated.

“What gems would you like, Frerin?” Bilbo inquired.

“By preference? Blue to match his eyes. Diamond, topaz, moonstone or aquamarine. Even sapphire if it was light enough. But I’ll settle for silver now and the gems can wait until our Marriage Beads.”

“Why wait? Do you remember the Troll Hoard? Well, Elrond gave me a small chest of the loose gems. He said that few of the elven smiths of Rivendell were comfortable working with gems and offered me, my choice of the unset stones. Wait here and I’ll fetch them.” Bilbo patted Frerin on the shoulder and bounced his way inside.

Barely though the door, he was accosted by Frodo.

“What’s going on out there? Kíli and Fíli won’t let me go out, they keep blocking me and telling me not to.”

“And well they should. It’s a dwarrow custom, Frodo, Frerin wants to do something and he needs Thorin’s help.”

“And you?”

“I’m there for perspective, lad, that's all.” As he spoke Bilbo was digging around in his pack for the _[tailë rota](extension%20tube)_ , he kept it in his pack but opened it enough to find the chest he’d told Frerin about. Finding it, he pulled it, and another object, out and closed the  _[rota](tube)_ , which he shoved to the bottom of his pack. “Now… I’ve carried this from Rivendell and it’s time some of it was used. I know you’re curious, lad, but you’ll just have to wait. I’m sure that Frerin will tell you as soon as he can... for now, be patient, Frodo.” Bilbo hugged Frodo, gave Kíli and Fíli grins and was out the door before Frodo could protest any further.

Bilbo gently place the chest on the slab-table and pushed it towards Frerin.

“Have a look in there, Frerin. Pull out the cloth and lay it out. I’m no Gem-smith, so I’ve sorted them by colour, not by stone or value. One colour per partition. After we reach Erebor, I might get a proper storage chest made, one where I can have a drawer for each colour and a section within it for each type of stone… or vice versa. But for now, they’re just sorted by colour. You can use any of them that you like, Frerin. Frodo had always been the son of my heart and I would see him smile more and I think you make that happen.” With that Bilbo pushed a small ingot of silver onto the table. “Not all of those gems came from the Troll Hoard, though… you’d be amazed at what I found in the Mathom-House in Michel Delving and the Mayor was more than happy to trade with me.” He grinned. “Now… if you don’t need me anymore, I’m going to go and get some second breakfast.”

“But this…?” Frerin gaped, he didn’t know where to look first.

“Hold onto them for the moment, you can give me back whatever you don’t use, **_after_** you’ve finished. Don’t stress, I know where you’ll be. I’ll send Fíli or Kíli out with some more coffee and something else to eat. Alright?” Bilbo offered.

“Thank you Bilbo. That would be good. Can you tell the rest of the lads, we’ll be in the forge for most of the day?” Thorin asked.

“Of course, Thorin. I’ll see to it that they keep Frodo busy, too. Shall we see to your packing?”

“Would you? That would be grand Bilbo.” Frerin smiled.

With that Bilbo left the two brothers to their discussion. He had a nephew to occupy and that wasn’t going to be easy, Frodo felt the Bond with Frerin strongly, he just didn’t know it.

 

Frodo was beginning to get annoyed. Bilbo and the dwarrow had kept him busy all day, getting him to help with this, asking him to do that, wanting him to fetch something. He was tired and all he wanted to do was to sit under a tree with his dwarf.

He froze in mid-step.

His dwarf?

Since when was Frerin **_his_** dwarf?

Frodo thought about that, in his mind he ran through his time with the dwarf-prince, he saw their interactions, he felt the need to be close to the dwarf, he saw Frerin’s reactions, he saw it all… And he saw it all with clear eyes and clear eyes saw so much more.

“Oh, crap.” He said.

“What was tha’, laddie?” He was helping Óin pack the medical kits and as the healer wasn’t using his hearing horn, he hadn’t heard Frodo properly.

“I need to speak to Uncle Bilbo, Óin. Here, Sam? Give Óin a hand. I need to talk to Uncle.” Frodo didn’t wait for a reply, he was done waiting.

He stalked off in search of his meddling relative, spying the hobbit scrabbling around under some oak trees, Frodo crept over as quietly as he could.

“You need to watch where your shadow is, if you ever hope to be a decent burglar, Frodo Baggins.” His Uncle said without turning his head.

“I don’t care about being a burglar, Uncle, you know that. I need to talk to you… please, Uncle.” Frodo knew his voice was strained, but there was nothing he could do about that, not right now.

“Frodo?” Bilbo stood up quickly and turned to face him. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I…” He took a deep breath. “What's a Heart Bond like?”

“Ah… Let’s have a seat, my boy.” Bilbo took his arm and guided him around a few trees until they were in a space where the lowered boughs of a willow made a private bower.

“Now, Heart Bonds, huh?”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Well, each one is slightly different… but there’s one thing that all Heart Bonds have in common. The Drawing.”

“The Drawing?” Frodo asked.

“Yes, Frodo, the Drawing. It’s pretty much like it sounds. A person is Drawn to their Heart Bond, they feel the need to be close to them, to be able to see them, to be in contact with them, if possible. Once a person acknowledges that they are Drawn to another, the **_need_** eases, but until not the two are Bound does the Drawing fade completely.”

“Bound? What’s the difference between a Bond and being Bound?” Frodo frowned.

“Your Heart Bond is the person that you are Drawn to. For the Bond to be fulfilled the two of you go through a ceremony where you are Bound together, it involves vows and sharing of blood.” Bilbo watched as Frodo’s face scrunched up. “No, lad, it’s not that bad. For hobbits, a small cut is made on the pad of the thumb and the two Bonded’s have their thumbs Bound to together for the length of time it takes for the vows to said. For elves, it’s a cut on the palm of the hand and then the two hands are Bound. For dwarrow, it’s a cut down the forearm.”

“Oh, gods.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of permanent, so there are a lot of steps in a Heart Bond Courtship. The first is the Formal Consent, where the Heads of both Families are approached by the one who wishes to initiate the relationship. The second is the Family Gift, usually a gift from the family of that person to the other’s family. From there all Gifts are mutual and both parties are required to take part in the Gifting. There’s the Gift of Knowledge, this is to show that one knows and understands the person they are looking to Bond themselves to. Then the Gift of Aspiration, usually this gift is something to do with what you want the future to hold for the pair of you. In addition to this are the usual three Courting Gifts, these are things that are relevant to the other, not as important as the Gift of Knowledge, but they still have to have personal meaning.”

“Oh, blast it.” Frodo groaned.

“Yeah. That says it all. When I did this the first time, it took Thorin an hour to calm me down after he told me, but it **_was_** Thorin doing the telling, so he wasn’t subtle about it.”

Frodo laughed.

“Thorin doesn’t really do subtle, does he?”

“Nope.”

“So… Um… I think Frerin is my Heart Bond.” Frodo said it in a hurry, sure that if he didn’t, then it was possible he wouldn’t actually get the words out.

“Yes, Frodo, I know.”

“You know? How in Mordor do you know? I didn’t, how did you?” Frodo was stunned.

“Lad, it’s kind of obvious, if you know what to look for.” Bilbo laughed.

“What? How?”

“I saw it that morning in Waymeet. It was in your eyes, the way both of you looked at the other, a sense of recognition. Then there was the way that, as a hawk, you sit on his shoulder and run your beak through his hair. There’s the fact that when you stand side by side, your fingers reach for the other. The way your eyes follow the other. And today? As the day’s progressed, I’ve been watching you, you’ve been getting more and more fidgety as the day went on.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So what now? What do I do next?” Frodo asked, thankful yet again, that Bilbo was his Uncle.

Frodo jumped when Thorin’s voice answered.

“Now, Frodo Baggins, you and your Uncle come with me.” The dwarf king-in-exile said.

Bilbo and Frodo climbed to their feet.

“Come with you? Why?” Frodo asked.

“Come and see.” Thorin smiled.

Bilbo grinned at Frodo’s huff, but the younger hobbit was close on Thorin’s heels as he lead them from the trees and in the direction of the forge. As they rounded the house, Frodo could see Fíli and Kíli standing behind Frerin. Just the sight of his dwarf was enough to settle his nerves. He stopped a few feet from the three dwarrow and waited, he just didn’t know what he was waiting **_for_**.

“Frodo of the House of Baggins, Mahal has blessed me. He has blessed with a Heart Bond. With you. I would Court you… Bind myself to you… if you would have me?” Frerin was nervously twisting his fingers as he spoke.

Frodo took a moment to focus, this was obviously a formal event in a dwarf’s life and he didn’t want to belittle the occasion. He took a deep breath before answering.

“Frerin, dwarf of Erebor, I have sought advise and have reached the conclusion that your are my Heart Bond. Your offer of Courtship is welcomed by me. I would be pleased to have you.” He smiled gently as he answered.

Fíli and Kíli cheered, as Frerin sighed in relief.

“I’ve spent the day making Courting Beads for you, will you allow me to add a Courting Braid and Bead to your hair?” Frerin asked.

“Of course, Frerin, I would be pleased. Can I… can I see it? Please? Other than Bilbo’s and Kíli’s? I haven’t seen any Courting Beads.”

“Of course, you can, Frodo.” Frerin held out his hand. On it lay a silver bead with blue gems set into the surface. Like the Bead Bilbo made for Kíli, it was an square-ish bead, slightly flattened. One flattened surface had blue gems forming the outline of clouds above the etched hills of the Shire, the etching of the hills were fine lines of gold and bronze. The other side had the symbol Frerin had crafted for himself, as a personal seal, a diamond shape with the runes for the letters ‘F’ and ‘D’ that stood for ‘Frerin’ and ‘Durin’. The two letters were carefully laid black stones and the lines of the diamond were freshly smelted iron, giving the impression of a black diamond.

Frodo’s eyes widened, his fingers were drawn towards the Bead. One finger gently stroked over the clouds of the Shire, a sudden longing in his heart to see what Erebor looked like with a covering of clouds.

“Well? What do you think, Frodo?” Frerin asked, tension almost visible across his shoulders.

“It’s stunning, Frerin. It makes me want to see clouds above Erebor.” He answered.

“From what I remember the weather around Erebor is a lot wilder than in the Shire.” Frerin warned.

“As bad as the storm with the stone giants?” Frodo grinned.

“Nah.”

“Then it’ll be fine.” Frodo assured him.

“Alright then. Can I Braid this in, now?” Frerin asked.

“Yes, please.” Frodo sat on the conveniently placed stump-stool and revelled in the feel of Frerin’s fingers in his hair.

When Frerin finished, Frodo was grabbed and hugged by Fíli and Kíli, the pair arguing about their new uncle and what they were going to call him, especially as according to dwarrow culture, he would also become Kíli’s nephew as well as his uncle.

Bilbo was reminded of a conversation with Glorfindel about uncles and nephews and began to laugh. By the time he’d composed himself and Thorin had Fíli an Kíli under control, Bofur was calling them for supper. All six in the forge were startled to realise that it was so late.

It would be their last supper with Beorn, as tomorrow they would leave for Mirkwood. Bilbo desperately hoped that Thranduil had heeded Irmo’s dreams, otherwise they were in for a rough time.

 

At the edge of the forest, now called Mirkwood, the Company camped for the night. It had taken them a few days of riding to reach the edge of the forest and they thanked Beorn’s ponies and gratefully released them to return to their master.

Thick and hearty stews, rich with vegetables, dried venison and rabbit, that Bilbo had kept over from the night they’d camped below the Carrock, were their meal for the night. With fluffy dumplings and fresh berries for desert, all 22 traveller’s stomachs were full almost to the point of discomfort, but no one was complaining, they knew that for the next few weeks, food was going to be tightly rationed.

Bilbo had told them that they would be trekking through Mirkwood for more than three weeks. Only Thorin, Frerin, Fíli, Kíli and the hobbits knew that there was a chance that Thranduil would discard Irmo’s directions and imprison them. They all hoped otherwise, but were preparing for the worst and Thorin and Bilbo weren’t prepared to risk loosing anything or anyone. This meant that each morning the hobbit’s would shift to their warg forms and the dwarrow would lay all the packs over the warg-hobbit’s backs and then the hobbits would shift back to hobbits. With Gandalf leaving them in the morning, they knew they could only rely on each themselves from here onwards.

Both Thorin and Bilbo were dubious of Thranduil’s actions and Bilbo in particular wanted to keep Posy and Estel away from the elven king. After lengthy discussions with Thorin, Dwalin and Sam, it was decided that during the day, Posy, Estel, Pippin and Sam would stay in the branches of the trees where possible. The idea being that they would be able to guide those on the ground and it would keep them out of the elves’ sight. Elves might use the lower branches of the trees to travel, but if Estel and the hobbits used the higher branches, they would be closer to fresh air, the cover of the leaves and few of the spiders went so high that the climbers couldn’t go higher to safety.

As everyone was putting their things in their packs after breakfast, Sam spoke up.

“Merry? Posy? Time to get your socks on.”

“Ugh.” Merry grunted.

“Socks?” Kíli asked. “I didn’t think hobbits wore boots.”

“No, not boots, Mister Kíli. Socks.” Sam said. “Mister Bilbo, you said the forest here is sick, poisoned by a river running through it?”

“Yes, Sam, it is.”

“Well, Merry’s a land healer, Mister Bilbo. He can’t be walking around on poisoned ground, it’ll suck all the strength right outta him.”

“Oh stars, I forgot. What about you, Sam? You’re a plant healer, how are you going to manage?” Bilbo fretted.

“Not to worry, Mister Bilbo, I’ll be wearing me socks and gloves, just like Posy.”

“Posy? Why would she be wearing socks **_and_** gloves, Sam?”

“Cause, so far she’s testin’ strong in both plant and land touches and I won’t risk her getting sick with whatever is poisonin’ the trees ‘ere.”

“Oh my. Ah… and the rest of us? Should we be wearing ours?”

“Knowin’ how Mister Frodo hates em’, I’d say try without, iffen ya begin ta feel off, then put em’ on, Mister Bilbo.” Sam replied, smiling as Frodo sighed in relief.

“We’d best carry them on our belts then, just in case. Frodo, Pippin? Get them out… I know, Frodo, I don’t like them much, myself, but the alternative? No, I’ll wear them if I must.” Bilbo stated.

Fíli, Kíli, Nori and Ori watched curiously as Sam pulled out what appeared to be soft leather gloves, but all four were startled to see the blonde hobbit sit down and begin to work them onto his feet. Soft kid-skin, with a separation for the big toe and buttons up the outside to hold it tight to the lower leg, it looked a little like a cross between an elven shoe and the type of socks that the dwarrow wore inside their boots. Posy and Merry tucked their trouser legs into their socks and did the socks’ buttons up, until the socks reached nearly to their knees.

The gloves that Sam and Posy donned next were incredibly thin, Kíli swore he could see light through them and once on, they too, had a row of buttons that ran from the edge of the thumb to the elbow.

The older hobbits’ socks and gloves were the butter gold of new suede, but Posy’s were dyed a dull brown/grey and the difference in colouring confused the dwarrow for a bit, until Frodo reminded them that Posy’s were in Underhill colours, whereas the others had had to make themselves new socks and gloves, after being Restored with no possessions. Yes, Bilbo had a pair of socks still in Bag End, but there was no way he was bringing **_them_**. Bilbo had been a bit of a clothes dandy prior to running off after the dwarrow, he had whole **_rooms_** devoted to **_just_** clothes, but bright green boots the colour of Bag End’s door? No, he wasn’t bringing them. So, when he’d encouraged the lads to make themselves new socks and gloves to brave the Misty Mountains and an Ereborean winter, he’d done the same.

Bidding Gandalf farewell wasn’t easy, for any of them, but the hobbits knew that what he had to do was vital to the wellbeing of Middle Earth and their dealing with The Ring. So bid him farewell, they did.

As the wizard rode south, a screeching caw was heard. The hobbits all startled at the noise, but not the dwarrow. No, they knew that sound and it was a welcome distraction from the forest in front of them. Thorin got to his feet and stepped away from the company, he stopped beside the stump of a tree. A huge raven descended from the sky and perched on the stump.

“Thorin? Thorin, [uzbadu Durin’s kanâg](king%20of%20Durin's%20folk?)?” The bird croaked.

“[Kun, tada-ê](Yes,%20that's%20me)”.

“[I-Mann udu Gimris, nuthûn Gloín](A%20letter%20from%20Gimris%20daughter%20of%20Glo%C3%ADn).” The bird stuck a leg out for Thorin to remove a piece of paper from the message capsule, the moment he did the bird opened it’s wings and took flight.

“Gimris?” Gloín asked. “Did I hear my lovely lass’ name?”

“You did, Gloín. But why would she send a [karku-zund](Giant%20Raven) to me? Why not to you?”

“Perhaps you should read the message and find out, Uncle.” Fíli suggested.

“Hmmm.”

Thorin unrolled the message and quickly he read what was written.

“Oh, [kakhâf, kakhâf, **_kakh_** ** _â_** ** _f_**](Crap/shit).” He handed the note to Gloín and continued to swear.

The redhead saw his cousin’s reaction and so steeled himself for bad news, but even so, he wasn’t ready for what he read. He handed it to Dwalin, who read it aloud.

**Uncle Thorin,**

**Your letter arrived this morning. What did you write? It upset Aunt Dís. She came storming in here, with Gimli at her heels (today was his day to help in her office), yelling for[Amad](mother). Something about stupid brothers (I assume she means you) and bloody frerins (what’s a frerin?) and then something about reckless idiots (Fíli and Kíli? Or Dwalin and [Adad](Dad)?). Then [Amad](mother) and Aunt Dís sent me with notes for Dwalin’s daughter, Kartja, Bifur’s daughter Amal** **í** **ta and for Cousin T** **á** **sha.**

**They shut themselves in[Amad’s](mother's) office and obviously they talked about your letters, because when they came out [Amad](mother) told me, I would have to run both offices as she and the others were heading out after ‘that pack of brainless blockheads’ (your Company?).**

**They left about an hour ago. Just the six of them.**

**What did you do?**

**Gimris.**

The dwarrow went various shades of pale. Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Gloín and Dwalin the worst, closely followed by Óin, Bifur, Bofur and Nori. Frerin seemed to be the only one unaffected.

“Is that a problem?” Frodo asked.

“ ** _Yes!”_** Came from Thorin, Dwalin, Balin, Fíli and Kíli.

“Why?” asked Merry, standing up and stomping his feet to settle his leather socks into place.

“Merry, lad? Lady Dís is… well, she’s like Aunt Magnolia and Cousin Dahlia…” Bilbo tried to break it gently to the hobbits.

The four hobbit lads joined the dwarrow in going pale.

“And what is that supposed to mean, Bilbo?” Frerin asked.

All the dwarrow turned and looked at the blonde dwarf.

“What?...”

“Oh Mahal. He doesn’t know.” Kíli groaned.

“Uncle! You’re the most senior dwarf here, you get to tell him.” Fíli jumped in quickly.

“What?! Me? Why me? She’s your mother!” Thorin argued.

“She was your sister first!” Fíli fired back.

Dwalin, Balin and Gloín agreed and quickly had everyone else’s heads nodding.

“[Kakhâf](Crap/shit)!” The king-in-exile swore.

“Alright, nadad, I’m missing something. What exactly am I missing?” Frerin asked Thorin.

“Dís… Azanulbizar… changed her, loosing grandfather, father and you… she… she grew hard, nadad. When she Bonded with Víli, she was happy again and having Fíli? She glowed with joy. But it didn’t last, nadad. The day after the healer told them she was expecting again… there was a mine collapse. Víli wasn’t a miner, he was only running an errand for the assayer’s office, he shouldn’t have **_been_** in the mine, but Víli was a stubborn dwarf. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have convinced Dís to accept their Bond. She was devastated when she was told, completely distraught, so much so that she shut down, mentally I mean. And of course I wasn’t there… it was left to Dwalin, Balin, Gloín and Bírzel to try and hold her together until I could get back. I… it was hard, nadad, Fíli was not yet five and Dís just shut down, completely. For the entire length of her pregnancy I had to hand feed her at every meal. When she went into labour, she was silent, she didn’t make a sound, Óin handed me the babe and asked for a name for him, Fíli was in the next room, he obviously heard Óin and he screamed, and I quote, ‘is name is Kíli, Adad wanned ‘im to be Kíli.” Thorin took a few deep breaths.

“As he screamed, Fíli burst in, the door slammed back against the wall and for whatever reason, it woke Dís. She was stunned, the last thing she remembered was being told Víli was dead and now it was months later and I was holding her newborn babe. She was a bit better after that, but… she’s… well, she’s like Aunt Selíta. She won’t tolerate mistakes in adults, children, yes, but not adults, she’s just as likely to pick up a sword or axe to solve some idiot’s problem. She runs the trade hall with an iron fist, not in a silk glove but openly holding a dagger, no one crosses her, no one. Not even me, nadad.”

“If she’s coming? We’d best be moving and get rid of that dragon, before she decides to take matters into her own hands.” Balin said.

Frerin just stood there looking at Thorin, he wasn’t sure what to think about what he’d just been told.

“Aye. Dís in a rage is no pleasant sight, Frerin.” Dwalin added.

“At least the trip here will take her a few months, hopefully that will have taken the worst of the edge of her anger.” Bilbo said.

“We can only hope. But for now? I suggest we get a move on.” Thorin told them.

Fourteen dwarrow, six hobbits and one Man-child picked up what remained of their belongings and turned to face the trees, almost as one the Company took a deep breath and entered the forest.

 

Two days later they were surrounded by elves and for a moment, the hobbits felt like cheering. Until, that was, they realised that there was no Legolas leading their captors. When the elves stripped them of their weapons, Bilbo and Thorin exchanged looks, they’d had enough conversations about Mirkwood, so that when Bilbo shook his head, Thorin knew what he meant. Thranduil was either ignoring Irmo’s dream-suggestions or he was deliberately going to go against them, but until they saw the elven king, they wouldn’t know which.

The dwarrow and the three remaining hobbits were tied hand behind backs, before being hoisted onto the elves tall horses. The lack of dignity in being tied to the saddles of the beasts was galling and Bilbo was desperately glad that Sam and Pippin were keeping Posy and Estel high in the trees. He’d been able to send a quick assurance in Green Tongue, he’d made it sound like a complaint, but in reality it was anything but.

Before leaving Beorn’s, he’d told Sam and Pippin that if this happened, they were to follow as quietly as possible, that the Company would be taken to the palace and if they were unable to keep up or the elves became suspicious, then continue east to the enchanted river and follow that north. It would meet up with the River Running and they could follow that to Thranduil’s palace.

A quick glimpse of a worried Posy being held back by Sam was the last Bilbo saw of anything other than the back of the elf he ‘rode’ behind. This was how things were to go for the six days that it took them to reach the palace.

As expected, when they arrived at the palace, they were taken straight to the palace dungeons, but again things were different from what he remembered. This time, Thranduil did not call for Thorin, this time they were to stay in the dungeon.

As their elven captors removed the ropes tying the Company’s hands, Dwalin’s head shot up.

“Kíli? You did tell your mother you were Courting, didn’t you?”

“Nope, I figured it was better to wait until she could meet Bilbo. Why?” Kíli added the question as he saw the alarm on Dwalin’s face.

“Thorin told her. Balin and I told him not to, but you know Thorin.”

Kíli went pale.

“[Kakhâf](Crap/shit).”

 

 

 

Khuzdul = (K)                       Quenyan = (Q)          Green Tongue (G)     Sindarin (S)

 

Galikh baknu = good morning (K)

Uzbadu Durin’s kanâg = king of Durin’s folk (K)

Kun, tada-ê = Yes, that’s me. (K)

Kakhâf = crap/shit (lit trans. Feces) (K)

Ignêg-ê saflilmîn tada ihkirî nadadu amê! = I'm going to skin that accursed brother of mine (K)

I-Mann udu Gimris nuthû Gloín = A letter from Gimris daughter of Gloín. (K)

Karku-zund = giant raven (lit. trans = Raven of Giants) (K)


	25. The Elven King's Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil is an idiot  
> Poor Legolas  
> Golrfindel is angry  
> Erestor is angry  
> A Challenge is issued  
> The Company is freed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> added 27-Aug  
> edits - 7-Sept

On the same night that the Company split in the Misty Mountains, far to the east, Lord Lorien Irmo watched as an elven king and prince dreamed. The dreams started fairly innocuously, with the king sending the prince on a patrol, but there the harmlessness of the dream ended.

The prince’s patrol found a troop of dwarrow in the forest near the tainted river, these the patrol captured and returned to the palace, imprisoning them in the dungeons below the palace. Here they stayed for weeks on end, until the night of the Starlight Festival… when they escaped, riding barrels down the Forest River to Lake Esgaroth, how they gained freedom from their cells, is never known. The prince and the king watched as in their dreams the dwarrow and a Halfling were taken to Laketown and after some days the troop left in the direction of Erebor. They watch as the dwarrow head, not for the main gates, but for a small outcropping of cliff, they watch as the sun sets and the light of the moon illuminates a doorway, that once open, leads into the heart of the mountain.

The king sneered as the dwarrow fought inside the mountain against the dragon, while the prince feared for the safety of the small being with them, both royals sighed when the dragon left the mountain, but for different reasons. The prince sighed in relief that the little one was safe, while the king sighed in resignation that the dragon had not killed the dwarrow. Both watched, wide-eyed as the dragon descended on Laketown, the king smiled at the death of the so called Master of Laketown, while the prince moaned in his sleep at the needless deaths and destruction left in the wake of the beast. The king smirked as he saw a lone bowman standing on the shattered remains of the town’s belltower, a black arrow in his hands and his bow in pieces at his feet. The prince saw the bowman jam the broken limbs of his bow into the shattered remains of the towers posts, resting the shaft of the black arrow on a child’s shoulder, he watched in awe, as the Man-child calmed at the words of his father. The arrow left the makeshift bow and flew, it flew straight and true, piercing the chest and heart of the dragon.

The dreamers watched as elves and men approached the mountain, they watched as the dwarf-king went mad with gold sickness, the prince again fearing for the little being’s safety, while the king sneered at the actions of the dwarf-king. They watched as an army of Orcs arrived and a battle began, a battle not against dwarrow but against the forces of darkness. The prince watched as the captain of his patrol stood before the king and barred his exit from the battle, as the king banished the captain, as the prince finally stood for something he believed in, not just something he was **_told_** to believe in, the prince joined the captain and they went to the aid of those most in need, the dwarf-king and his warriors had entered an ambush.

They watched their own actions in the battle, the king watched the prince fight one-on-one with an orc near twice his mass and many inches above his height, he watched in disbelief as the prince saw the dwarf-king battling a number of Orcs, alone, and threw the sword the king had confiscated from the dwarf-king, it pierced the chest of an orc on the verge of ending the dwarf’s life. The king shook his head at the waste of a good sword, while the prince was simply glad that he has not allowed another to die at the blade of an orc.

Both watched as dwarrow and elf and man fell, death was everywhere and no one was spared her reach. The king watched in anger as the prince turned his back on the king, leaving the only home he had ever known, he would travel far and learn much in the coming years. The captain was welcomed to Erebor, but the pain of the death of a dwarf-prince she could have loved, as a lover or as a brother was unknown, they had not the time to discover which, was overwhelming. She recruited disillusioned elves, men and even a few dwarrow and an expedition to Gundabad was formed. The king shook his head at her naivety in attacking the dark fortress, he sneered as she drew her last breath, still clutching tokens from the dwarf-prince.

The dreamers saw the years pass and when the call to arms came, the prince answered willingly, but the king delayed. The prince joined a small band of travellers, their task to destroy an object of evil, they journeyed far, gaining allies and enemies alike, they saw death and destruction, but the bonds formed went far, they grew strong like the mightiest of trees and like the tallest of mountains, their roots went deep into their hearts.

The king stood again outside that hated mountain, again he stood beside dwarrow against the armies of darkness. Again he fought, the losses this time even greater than the last battle in this place. The king returned to his palace, the prince, with his companion at his side, requesting audience, the king met the prince and both despaired when the king would not accept the prince’s companion, the prince laid a hand on the companion’s shoulder and walked with him to the gates of the palace. The two stopped and turned and the prince spoke to the king.

“I would have loved you as a son should love a father, but you gave me no chance to. This fatherless elf bids you farewell, Thranduil of Mirkwood, we shall not meet again.” The former-prince bowed and left, never to return.

The two woke, distraught, but with the power of Irmo directed at them, both fell into dreams again. This time the dreams were slightly different, the dwarrow were there, but this time, the king allowed them to pass through his land unhindered. The dragon was still killed and the battle against the Orcs still happened, but the dwarf-king and the two princes lived. The little one that the prince had feared for the safety of was there, standing at the side of one of the dwarf-princes, the one that the captain had been drawn to, she stood behind them smiling at their joy. The little one, the princes and the other five little ones, went south to a mountain neither recognised. As he stood on the walkway-bridge within the mountain the Halfling tore a button from his trousers and threw it in the fires and the fires exploded. Gouts of flame rose high, the little one and his companions ran from the mountain and huddled on an outcropping until the Giant Eagles of Manwë appeared and carried them to safety. The dreams ended and both king and prince slept deeply until dawn.

When morning broke, the king and the prince, went about their duties, it was many hours before their paths crossed, but in the instant their eyes met, they knew the other had shared their dream. But again, their reactions were different. The king ordered the prince and his patrol south-east, they were to guard against the spiders encroachment. The king would see that the prince never saw the Halflings, Erebor or the hated dwarrow again.

 

The prince went to his tasks with pain in his heart and when the captain and his patrol asked of his pain, he told them of Irmo’s dreams and of the king’s actions, they were not pleased, but they had a duty to their people. No longer would they say, they were loyal to the throne of Eryn Galen, now their loyalty lay with their prince. They may have a number of weeks to lay the foundations of their plan, but they knew that they would have only minutes to act when it was time. And so, they plotted and planned, they knew the Starlight Festival was fast approaching and by the ancient laws of elven-kind, all must attend at some point. The prince had told them this was the time they would act, but warned them, if they were caught, they would die as traitors, if they lived, they would be still be declared traitors. Their loyalty must be freely given, he would not ask it of them. The cost was too high, there were too many lives in the balance.

 

Three days before the Festival started, the gates of Eryn Galen were opened to admit travellers from Imladris, three elves, two hobbits and a man. The six were brought before Thranduil, where he watched them impersonally.

“To what do we owe this visit, Glorfindel of the House of Golden Flowers? Why do you bring more Halflings into my forest?” he asked, sourly.

“They are not Halflings, but hobbits, King of Eryn Galen.” Glorfindel corrected.

“Halflings, hobbits. I care not. Why have you brought them?” The King sneered.

“We seek their relatives, they would have passed this way, recently. They travelled with a group of dwarrow.”

“No Halflings or _naugrim_ have passed my lands. Nor will they. Any _naugrim_ or Halflings found within my realm will find a place in my dungeons.” The King smirked.

“You would imprison them, for no reason? For simply crossing you lands?”

“They seek to wake the dragon, it will attack Laketown and destroy it, in it’s death-throws. They have no honour, they would keep what is mine from me. So I will keep them from what is theirs.”

One of the King’s counsellors spoke.

“Prince Legolas advised an alliance, a treaty between Eryn Galen and Erebor. He feels that-” the counsellor got no further in his speech.

“Legolas! **_Legolas!_** How dare **_he?! I_** am king. **_I_** make the decisions. **_I_** decide what treaties **_I_** make, not **_Legolas!_** ” the King raved.

“He only wanted-”

“I care **_not_** what Legolas wants. He will abide by **_my_** choices.”

“My lord, I only meant to-”

“Enough! I will have no one question my choices. Legolas has done so for the last time! I declare him no son of mine!” the King yelled. The elves in the throne room gasped, the King would disown his son? Why?

Glorfindel’s hands fisted and he stepped forward.

“You would deny your blood? Your own **_son?!”_** His voice was hard and loud, he hoped to shock the King into regaining his mind.

“Yes, I would deny him. He is no son of mine. He is not my blood, I do not recognise his birth.” There were gasps and moans of dismay from those present.

Erestor saw the anger on his husband’s face, anger that could not be allowed to be realised. If Glorfindel attacked now, he would kill Thranduil and leave Eryn Galen leaderless, with Thranduil disowning Legolas, there was no heir. But something else caused Erestor to step forward. Thranduil had said ‘more Halflings’ not just ‘Halflings’, that meant that Bilbo, Frodo and the others had reached the forest. So where were they?

“Thranduil Oropheriôn, where are the hobbits, now?” the scholar’s voice was soft and gentle, belying the anger that ran through him.

Glorfindel glanced at his husband and his eyes widened at what he saw.

“Who are you, that you think you have the right to ask me this?”

“I am Erestor, scholar of Rivendell and Chief Counsellor to Elrond, Lord of Imladris.”

“The **_hobbits_** … are where they shall remain. In my dungeons. Question my authority again and you shall join them.”

Members of Thranduil’s court gaped at their king, to threaten a visiting dignitary for simply asking a question was unheard of. Erestor, however showed no surprise or shock, he stood calmly and looked at the king, as he ranted, for some time. When he spoke again, it silenced the entire court.

“Thranduil Oropheriôn of Eryn Galen, I Erestor Larefeliôn of Imladris, call you to challenge. I claim a challenge of _[cuil-nosta](Life-right)._ By your laws you cannot deny this challenge and retain your status. Will you stand and defend your life or will you concede?” Erestor’s voice was calm and clear, there could be no doubting what he said.

Thranduil looked at the scholar in shock. The upstart had challenged him… but not just challenged him, he issued a life-right challenge, he knew that Thranduil could not refuse him, but did he know that if he lost, Thranduil could claim everything that the foolish scholar held dear, he could claim it and destroy it? Even Glorfindel looked slightly alarmed, perhaps it was true that the balrog slayer had taken the scholar as husband, if so, that was just another reason to accept the challenge. When he defeated the scholar he could claim the balrog killer and then discard him, to do so would demean Glorfindel and make him little more than an outcast. Yes, he would accept the challenge and he would chose the forms that benefitted him most.

“Erestor Larefeliôn, I accept your challenge of _[cuil-nosta](Life-right)_. As you have called _[cuil-nosta](Life-right)_ , you should be aware that the challenge is that of blades.”

“I am aware.”

“Are you also aware that neither challenged nor challenger can fight with a blade of their own, that both must use blades belonging to others?”

“I am aware.”

“You are also aware that the challenged, that is I, choose the blades that both must use?”

“I am aware that as the challenged you may choose the blades used, but I am also aware that both parties may have a maximum of 15 minutes to familiarise themselves with the blades chosen.”

“Bring all the blades taken from the  _[naugrim](dwarrow%20\(derogatory\))_  that dared to cross my lands.” Thranduil directed his guards, “and prepare the training grounds for a challenge.” The King turned back to Erestor, “I will allow one concession. You may select blades of your own choosing… but… instead of 15 minutes to familiarise yourself with the blades, you will have only 5 minutes, while I retain the full 15 minutes… or I choose your blades and you may have the entire 15 minutes. Your choice, scholar.”

“I would see the blades, first.” Erestor was still calm and collected, showing no concern.

“Certainly, scholar. We will go to the training grounds, now.” The King directed.

There were mutterings that it was unfair of the King to insist that the challenge take place immediately, that the challenger should be given food, drink and rest, that to deny this was petty, but none voiced it loud enough for the King to hear. Not now, now the court feared for their own positions, their own lives. Their king had lost his sense of rationality.

Fifteen minutes later, both the King and the scholar were ready, the scholar had removed his outer travel cloak and stood wearing only trousers and tunic-blouse, belted at the waist. The king wore form-fitting pants and a soft blouse, also belted, neither wore any blades, sheaths or protective armour, the challenge dictated only trousers or pants, a tunic or blouse and soft slippers-boots, no more, no less.

When the guards returned with the weapons, they were carefully laid out on a table placed for that purpose, spreading them out so that each blade was visible. The king stepped forward and looked at the blades laid out for them, he chose Orcrist, the Goblin cleaver and a matching long-dagger.

“You may choose what you will, scholar. Just remember that as I have chosen two blades, so must you.” The king sneered.

“I am aware.” Erestor looked at the selection and immediately his eyes were caught, did Thranduil not know that 'Anwar' and 'Astar' were on the table, did he not know that they had belonged to Erestor’s husband? Did he truly not know? Erestor looked at the king. “Any two blades? You will accept my choice of any two blades on this table in exchange for the loss of 10 minutes to familiarise myself with these blades? You are certain?”

“I am. Choose, scholar.” The king didn’t even bother to face Erestor when he replied.

Erestor threw a quick glance at Glorfindel as he took 'Anwar' and 'Astar' in his hands. It was hardly far, how many times had he held one of these blades? But if that was the way the King wanted it, who was Erestor to deny him? He stepped up to the edge of the circle, outlined in the middle of the training ground, he gently swung the blades in his hands back and forth, as his mind catalogued every move or the King’s muscles as he positioned himself opposite the scholar.

“Time is ticking away scholar. You must enter the ring before the last sands fall.” He pointed at a large hourglass atop a post.

Erestor looked at the glass, there was still more sand in the upper bulb than in the lower one. He shrugged and stepped across the painted line. The King watched him and smirked. The two hobbits sidled up to Glorfindel and Ferumbras whispered to him.

“Are you going to let this happen? Really?” Glorfindel nodded. “We can stop this. Rori and I. Erestor doesn’t need to fight, we can end this before it begins.”

“No, Ferumbras. Erestor chose this, let him do it. The outcome will be the same.” Glorfindel whispered back.

“When are you going to step in?” Rori asked.

“No, Rori. Erestor doesn’t need assistance, not in this. You’ve played chess against ‘tor, do you not see how his mind works?”

“Yes, but what has that to do with this?”

“He fights the same way. It took me centuries to get him to pick up a blade, in the end I had to challenge him. Not this type of challenge, but mentally challenge him. He taught me chess and the tongues of men and I taught him blade-work, I challenged him that why couldn’t he apply the same tactics to blade-work that he used in chess or diplomacy?” Glorfindel whispered.

“Did it work?” Ferumbras asked.

“Watch for yourself, Ferumbras and you tell me.” Glorfindel sat down on one of the benches that lined the walls surrounding the training grounds, he slouched back against the wall and stretched his legs out in front of him, a picture of ease. The two hobbits, however weren’t so comfortable, they sat forward, ready to intervene, to save their friend if it looked like he needed it. His husband may be confident, but neither hobbit had seen Erestor even **_spar_** in all the time they’d travelled together.

When the elf King stepped over the painted line, he took the fight to Erestor… or at least he tried to. Erestor never seemed to be where the King expected him to be. He forced Thranduil to chase him around the circle, watching and rarely moving a step more than absolutely necessary. Minutes dragged and still Erestor used defensive manoeuvres, Thranduil still the aggressor. Until… Thranduil’ longer reach allowed him to open a small cut on Erestor’s cheek, just below his eye.

Erestor frowned at Thranduil’s smirk and suddenly Thranduil found himself on the defensive. Erestor attacked, he attacked with a detached air, like the whole thing was boring him, like there was somewhere else he would rather be. Thranduil finally locked eyes with the scholar and what he saw, not just frightened him, but outright terrified him.

Erestor’s eyes were blank, not the blank of someone not aware of what was happening, but the blank of someone in the midst of an unwanted chore. His eyes were bored, he couldn’t care less what he was doing right then, he wasn’t interested, he was just going through the motions. He was standing toe-to-toe with one of Arda’s strongest warriors and in his mind this was a chore to completed and nothing more. Thranduil faltered, his arms swung even as his mind flailed in shock. Erestor slipped under his guard and Thranduil’s hands parted ways with both Orcrist and it’s dagger, the two flung far outside the challenge circle.

An unarmed Thranduil stood, Erestor’s daggers crossed at his throat.

“Do you concede?” Erestor’s voice was just as calm now, as it had been when he issued the challenge.

“What other option do I have?” Thranduil whispered.

“You have options, Thranduil Oropheriôn. Concede and you will live. Object and you will die.”

“What life can I live? With no honour, no position, no dignity. I would be better off dead.”

“If that is your choice. But… Concede and I will allow you to retain your honour, your dignity. Not your position, you forfeited that, when you disowned your blood. Concede and you will be taken to the Havens to sail West. Object and your blood will stain the grass beneath your feet. Choose, Thranduil, choose… Life or death?”

Thranduil looked at the scholar, it was clear that the elf meant what he said. If he choose death, it would be over in seconds, but he would never see his beautiful Ellerian again. If he choose life, he would sail, he would see his wife again, but he would have to explain to her what he had done. Could she forgive him for what he had done? Could he forgive himself? He had to trust that her heart was strong enough for the two of them.

“Life. I choose life, Erestor, King of Eryn Galen.” A sigh ran through those gathered to provide witness.

Eryn Galen had a new king.

“Very well. You will be given one hour to pack a single chest of possessions, then a guard squad will escort you to south to the East-West Road and west to the Grey Havens, Círdan will determine whether you can be trusted to remain there, freely, until the next ship sails west. But know this… to return here, to attempt to contact anyone here, will result in your death. By your own words, you have none of your blood outside Valinor. Guards! Take him to his chambers, he may pack possessions and personal jewellery, but no coin. That will be provided for him.” Erestor waited patiently to see what Thranduil would do, would he retain his honour and leave peaceably or would he attempt to fight?

Thranduil walked quietly between the two guards until he reached the gate into the palace proper, here he paused and turned.

“Might I ask a boon? Not for myself, but for my wife?”

“You may ask, but it may be refused.” Erestor warned.

“I would ask for a portrait, of the one called Legolas Greenleaf. I erred greatly in disowning him, but whether I desire it or not, I cannot not recant my words. He is the son of my wife and I know that she would dearly love to see the elf he has grown into.”

“This I will grant. Your previous position should have allowed you to know, is there an artist here, capable of rendering such an image?”

“There is. There are two, both are well known to Legolas. Toralien and Wedalir are both exceptional artists.”

“Very well, I will request a portrait for the Lady Ellerian.” Erestor turned to one of the guards that had brought the blades to the training grounds. “What is your name?”

“I am Cassian, my lord.” The elf replied.

“Cassian, is Legolas Greenleaf known to you?”

“He is, my lord. Until a recent injury forced me otherwise, I was a member of his patrol.”

“Good. Of the two artists named, which do you think Legolas would prefer?”

“Toralien, my lord. Legolas does not like the work of Wedalir, he claims it cold and lifeless.”

“Then fetch Toralien, if you would. Thranduil?” Erestor again addressed the former King.

“Lord Erestor.” Thranduil acknowledged.

“I will endeavour to have a portrait completed, by the time you leave, but if it is not to be, rest assured that you will not be required to depart the Grey Havens until one is provided. I will send a letter with you to this effect, if it is needed. Go now, you have packing to do.” Erestor turned to face Glorfindel and the hobbits.

“Glorfindel? I seem to have… changed my position. Oops.” Erestor winced.

“Why? You did the right thing, ‘tor.” Glorfindel chuckled.

“Maybe, but it feels like I should have consulted you.”

“Erestor Larefeliôn, you should know better than that. You have followed me for centuries, now, it is my turn to follow you and while Elrond may not be pleased to loose his Chief Counsellor, it is time you emerged from your brother’s shadow. You know damned well, Ecthelion would be laughing his head off over this.” Glorfindel chided.

“Oh, heavens, wouldn’t he just. Ecthelion never understood my lack of political ambition.” Erestor groaned.

“He had enough for the three of us, ‘tor. And now you are King of Eryn Galen. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” Glorfindel began to laugh.

“Hush now, you-” Erestor began, but paused when Cassian returned with a older she-elf.

“My lord, this is Toralien.” The guard said, with a bow.

“Thank you, Cassian. Would you be so good as to see to these weapons, clean them and sharpen any that need it? Artist Toralien, Thranduil has requested a portrait of Legolas Greenleaf, to gift to his wife. I have given Thranduil one hour to prepare for the journey to the Grey Havens. Is it possible for you to have a sketch done in that time? I realise that this is not much notice and I apologise.”

The she-elf looked at Erestor quietly for a few seconds before answering him.

“My lord, it would not be possible for me to complete a sketch suitable for the Lady Ellerian, not in the time available, however… My lord, I was a handmaiden to Ellerian and I had planned to sail west in the next few years, in preparation for this I have recently finished a portrait of Legolas for Ellerian. If you would like it, I am happy for this to be sent to Ellerian.”

“This portrait was to have been a gift from you to Ellerian, I cannot ask you to give that up.” Erestor argued.

“You didn’t. I offered. I can always do another picture, that’s the joy of being an artist, my lord.” Toralien grinned.

“Very well, I will accept your offer, Toralien. If you can have it ready to travel inside the hour, that would be very much appreciated. Now, it seems I have a court to see to.”

“Good luck, my lord.” The artist offered.

“Thank you, Toralien.” Erestor turned from the artist to face the counsellor who had spoken of Legolas earlier. “Counsellor? You have the remains of the hour to bring me up to date on the current political situation here. Lets go back to the throne room. Glorfindel? You will find and release the dwarrow and the hobbits, bring them all to the throne room, please.” Erestor turned walked away, confident that his husband would turn the palace upside down to find their friends. “Ferumbras, Rorimac? I’d like you to stay with me, for the present.”

Fifteen minutes later Erestor was certain that Thranduil was surrounded by idiots. There was not a sensible idea among the lot of them, not one had a valid reason for imprisoning Thorin’s company and not one of them had a valid reason for not having rid the forest of spiders, or at least attempting to. He told them they’d have to do better if they expected him to keep them as advisors. He also told them that he was claiming Legolas as his son and Tauriel as his daughter, they would be his heirs and the future of Eryn Galen.

He dismissed them and called Cassian to the throne room, ever so grateful that he’d listened to Bilbo when he’d told Elrond of his last journey with Thorin’s Company.

“Ah, Cassian. I want Legolas’ patrol recalled. I know that Thranduil planned for them to return only in time for the last day, but Legolas is a prince of the realm and Tauriel is now a princess of the realm, they should both be here for the entire festival. Please see that someone is sent to notify them of the changes that happened today. Also, until further notice, you are Commander of the Guard.”

“Ah… my lord? I’m only a warrior, there are many of higher ran than I, perhaps-”

“Cassian. I’m not interested in ranks, only in results. Of those I’ve seen given orders today, you completed your tasks well and in good time. I’ve yet to see any others do so. My order stands, you are Commander of the guard. See to that messenger and then help Glorfindel locate the dwarrow and the hobbits.” Erestor directed. He saw the reactions of many of the warriors as they realised that their ranks were not safe, that they would have to work if they planned to keep their positions.

 

Glorfindel stalked the halls of Eryn Galen, a distraught Elros, the previous Commander of the Guard, at his side.

“My lord Thranduil ordered them stripped of everything but their clothes and imprisoned, my lord. I have done only as I was ordered.”

“I’m sure you have, Elros. But Thranduil is no longer king, Erestor sits on the throne, now, and he wants the dwarrow and the hobbits freed.”

“It’s true then? That Thranduil disowned Legolas?”

“It is.”

“And that Rivendell’s scholar challenged Thranduil?” He received a nod in reply. “And that the scholar won? He defeated Thranduil?”

“Indeed.”

“A scholar? Never could I imagine that.”

“He is no ordinary scholar, Elros. He is Erestor Larefeliôn.” Glorfindel smiled gently.

“My lord, I am but a guard, I do not know this name.”

“Erestor Larefeliôn is brother to Ecthelion, Lord of the Fountain, and husband to Glorfindel, Lord of the House of Golden Flowers.”

“Oh, Nienna have mercy. Thranduil stood no chance. My lord, please don’t tell the king I did not know who he was… or his husband, either, please. ” The guard moaned.

“Too late for that, Elros.” Glorfindel grinned, as they entered the dungeon area a shout rang out.

“Glorfindel!” Thorin’s voice was easily heard over that of fretting of the guard.

“Ah, there you are, Thorin. I’ve been looking for you, Erestor ordered your release. Are the others all here?”

“No. Posy, Estel, Pippin and Sam didn’t get caught, they’re camped on the grounds though. Erestor ordered our release? Why Erestor?” Thorin asked.

Glorfindel grinned widely.

“I’m going to let him explain that. Now, Elros, open all the cells. Let my friends out.” Glorfindel’s voice hardened as he addressed the guard.

“Y-yes, my lord.” The guard stammered, his hands shaking as he unlocked the cells. He was standing beside a fully armed and slightly angry balrog slayer, he just hoped that he came out of this meeting alive.

 

Thranduil stood quietly on the councils meeting platform, he waited patiently for Erestor to assign him guards for the journey to the Grey Havens. As he waited, Toralien placed a wrapped object beside the trunk at his feet, she stood at the same time as Glorfindel reached the platform, a troop of angry dwarrow and hobbits at his heels.

“Thranduil, king of Mirkwood, I’ve a bone to pick with you.” One of the hobbits snarled.

“Thranduil is no longer king of Eryn Galen.” A guard spoke. “I am Cassian and I was among those to witness the Life Challenge between Thranduil, son of Oropher and Erestor, son of Larefel. King Erestor has permitted Thranduil to keep his dignity and granted him the honour of Sailing to Valinor. He and his escort are ready and shall depart at my Lord Erestor’s command.” The guard bowed to the dwarrow and hobbits, before continuing. “Thranduil, late of Eryn Galen, you may thank your wife, she that is mother to our prince and cousin to our king, it is in memory of her that Erestor has ordered you are to have an Honour Guard. Veriel, Fidarlin, Joloras, Anarion, Selariel and Rendorion will travel with you to the Grey Havens. Cirdan has been sent word of your impending arrival and it is hoped that you will be forced to suffer little delay before you Sail.”

“Sail? Glorfindel? Just what is going on here?” Thorin asked, turning to the balrog slayer with a frown.

“It is as Cassian stated, Thorin.” Erestor’s gentle voice joined them, quickly followed by the elf’s presence. “Please give me a moment and I’ll explain.” Thorin nodded, but continued to frown. “Thranduil, please take these.” Three letters left Erestor’s hand and journeyed to Thranduil’s via a guard. “As you can see, one is for Cirdan, it simply states that your position has changed and that I sanction your Sailing, it is for you, now, to disclose the events that lead to your Sailing. The second letter is for Ellarian, to assure her that her son will remain a prince of Eryn Galen and to alert her to the fact that Legolas is no longer an only child, he now has a sister, Tauriel Firelily. The third is for my brother, to tell him, he’s an uncle, I’m sure Ellarian sees him on a regular basis.” Thranduil bowed slightly. “Cassian? See that Thranduil is armed, the journey west is a long one and darkness still abounds, I would have not an elf of Eryn Galen unable to defend themselves. Veriel? Cassian has selected you to lead Thranduil’s Honour Guard, I ask only two things of you. One? Treat him with respect, he was king here for many years and for that he is deserving of respect. Second? Please send word of your safe arrival in the Grey Havens... after that? If you wish, you may return here immediately or you may travel to Rivendell or Lothlorien, both will welcome you, I’m sure. You may leave now. _[Geilu lénd](Safe%20journey.)_.”

Erestor waited until Thranduil and his guard left before turning to Thorin.

“Where is Posy? And Estel? I don’t see them. Where are they? Are they safe?”

“When we were captured, Posy, Estel, Pippin and Sam were up in the trees. They followed us and are camped somewhere in the palace grounds. Pippin came and found us, in his pine marten form, he found us and told us that the four of them were safe and well. They planned to stay out of sight as much as possible, but I doubt that would stop three of them from exploring.”

“Poor Sam must have his hands full, there.” Glorfindel laughed.

“Quite likely.”

“How do we go about finding them?” Erestor asked.

“There’s no need to find us, we’re here, Mister Erestor.” Sam’s voice was heard but no one could see him and they all looked. “Up here, Mister Erestor.” When Erestor looked up, he saw the blonde hobbit sitting quite calmly on one of the arches that were carved into the rocks and roots above the throne, Posy and Estel sitting on another arch with Pippin, all four just watching the proceedings from a good thirty foot above where the others stood.

“Posy-dear? Are you going to come down?” Bilbo asked.

“No.”

“Why not?” Bilbo blinked at her answer.

“I don’t know those two hobbits.”

“Hobbits? What hobbits?” Bilbo asked.

“She means us, cousin.” Ferumbras and Rorimac stepped from the shadows of the throne.

“Ferumbras? Rorimac? What in the name of Yavanna are you doing here?”

“Ah… perhaps we can adjourn to somewhere a little more private? But to reassure Miss Peachum, we are here on behalf of the zîrant. Everything is true? Nothing is forbidden. Miss Peachum, we are here to discuss the completion of your training.”

“Mister Bilbo? Do you trust them?” Sam asked.

“They’re both cousins of mine on the Took side, Sam. Rorimac is the son of Gorbadoc, the Master of Buckland and Ferumbras’ father is Fortimbras, the Thain of the Shire.” There were many raised eyebrows at the introduction.

“Mister Bilbo. I ask ag’in. Do you trust them?” Sam’s voice was hard.

“Yes, Sam. I trust them, just as I trust you or Frodo or Merry or Pippin.”

“Right then. Posy, Estel, Pip? Let’s head down.”

Posy and Estel nodded and stood, they checked their ropes and then leaned backwards until they were in an almost sitting position, they began to feed rope through a complex series of knots at their waist. This allowed them to descend from the arch with little difficulty. Pippin and Sam waited until the two younglings were in Bilbo and Thorin’s arms, before shifting and making their own way down. Watching the eyes of the Mirkwood elves widen at the sight of the two hobbits changing form, was entertaining for the Company and many of them smiled.

With eight hobbits, in hobbit shape, the newly named king of Eryn Galen lead the way to a spacious room with windows looking out over the training fields. When everyone was seated, the explanations began. First Bilbo and Thorin told of their journey since leaving Rivendell. Then Posy and Estel told of their journey to catch up with the Company. Next were Glorfindel and Erestor, they told of their time from the Company’s leaving and of Elrond’s directive to Galadriel’s subsequent contact. Ferumbras and Rorimac told of their part and of what Galadriel had Seen in her vision from the Valar. Finally Glorfindel told of their arrival in Eryn Galen and of Erestor’s change of position.

“What now? I mean this changes things, doesn’t it, Bilbo?” Kíli asked from his place at Bilbo’s side.

“Indeed it does, Kíli. But the question is how?” Bilbo replied.

“It seems we have a lot to discuss and plans to make.” Glorfindel said.

“We do. Can we get some paper and ink? It might be easier if we can take notes as we go.” Thorin added.

“Of course.” Erestor waved for a guard to fetch the required objects. “Shall we get started?”

 

Two nights before the Starlight Festival was to start, a messenger arrived at Legolas’ patrol camp. The messenger leant against a tree, his chest heaving for air, he bore no written message, but after gaining his breath, began to speak.

“Prince Legolas, you and your patrol are recalled to the palace. There is…” The messenger took a deep breath and started again. “The message I bear is this. Tell Prince Legolas, there was a _cuil-nosta_ challenge and Thranduil Oropheriôn, is no longer King of Eryn Galen.” The patrol gasped as one. “The new King has declared that Legolas Greenleaf and Tauriel Firelily are his heirs, his children.” Legolas and Tauriel sat abruptly, their legs no longer able to hold them, Tauriel was technically an orphan so the new King had the right to claim her as his, but Legolas was Thranduil’s son, Thranduil had to disown him, to declare that Legolas was not his blood, before the new king could lay claim to him. What had happened?

The ride back to the palace was blur to Legolas, his mind awash with confusion. What had happened that cause Thranduil to disown him? Who was the new king and why would he claim Legolas?

 

 

Khuzdul = (K)                       Quenyan = (Q)          Green Tongue (G)     Sindarin (S)

 _cuil-nosta_ = life-right (lit trans - gift of life) (S)

 _naugrim_ = dwarrow (multiple of dwarf) (S)

naur-loth = Firelily (lit trans. = fire flower) (Tauriel) (S)

calen-lass = Greenleaf (Legolas) (S)

Geilu, lénd = safe travel (lit trans. = good fortune journey) (S)


	26. A New Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Legolas  
> He meets his new father  
> Finds out about the Ring  
> Discovers who estel is  
> On the upside?  
> He has people who WANT to be his family, now.  
> And he meets Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin.

Entering the palace’s marshalling area on the eve of the Starlight Festival, Legolas saw a blonde elf, tall and straight. Was this the one he would call father? As he came closer, Legolas catalogued his features, broad forehead, soft pale blue eyes, high cheek bones, a soft mouth, he looked young, really he looked like a thousand young elves. But Legolas knew who he was, he’d studied enough history to know that this was Glorfindel, the balrog slayer, Returned to Arda as a  _[Beriatá](Protector)_. Legolas now understood, while Thranduil was an accomplished warrior, few had the skills to stand against Glorfindel. He sighed in relief, Glorfindel was reputed to be a gentle elf, to not tolerate cruelty or abuse of the innocents of Arda. To have this elf claim him as son, would not be a bad thing.

“Legolas Greenleaf? Tauriel Firelily? Your father, king of Eryn Galen, would see you, immediately upon your return. We’re staying in the Rivendell suite. Come.” The elf left the two younger elves to follow.

**_What!?_ **

Glorfindel **_wasn’t_** the new king? But who **_else_** could have skill to defeat Thranduil? Legolas thought hard, perhaps Elrond or Celeborn, but both of them were already Lords of their current lands. Haldir? The Marchwarden was a possibility. Maybe? But surely Haldir would be staying in the Lothlorien suite, not that of Rivendell. There was a rumour that Elrond and Glorfindel had trained an orphaned elf to act as guardian of Rivendell for those rare times that Elrond left his sanctuary, but nothing certain and the last time Legolas had seen Elladan and Elrohir, the Twins had pooh-hoohed the thought.

Legolas knew of no other elves with the sword skills to best Thranduil. So… who was King of Eryn Galen, now? A Man? Surely there was no Man that could best Thranduil? Unless… the Man from his dream? But he was to be the King of Gondor, he wouldn’t want to be King of Eryn Galen, too… would he?

Legolas walked at Tauriel’s side, as they followed the balrog slayer through the halls of the palace. As they approached the wing of the palace set aside for guests, Cassian greeted them.

“Legolas, Tauriel. My lord.” He gave a short bow. “The king asked me to redirect you to the Lothlorien suite, my lord. The hobbits are arguing amongst themselves and Prince Fíli suggested that the king may find a different location to be quieter for your meeting.” He gestured and joined them.

Who was Prince Fíli? Why did he know that name? Legolas wondered.

“The hobbits? Arguing? Why?” Glorfindel asked.

“Yes, my lord. Something to do with Miss Posy and some sort of training? Ferumbras wants Rorimac and Bilbo wants Sam. I’m not certain who’s going to come out on top, but the dwarrow are laying bets, if you want to place one.” The guard informed them.

“Hmm. Who’s holding the book? Nori or Balin?”

“Neither, sir. Master Dwalin’s the one to see.”

“Dwalin? Well…”

“And no coins, sir. Bets are time, labour, service or craft, only. One bet per person.”

“Ah… No. I think I’ll sit this one out. Bilbo and Sam are friends and we travelled with Rori and Ferum. So… no matter which one I back, I’ll lose. Better not to risk it.” Glorfindel stated.

“Wisely said, my lord.”

The guard opened the door to the Lothlorien suite and stepped back to allow the others to enter first. Legolas followed Glorfindel and Tauriel wasn’t far behind him. The prince stopped just inside the door, his eyes searching the room and finding two elves, one near the window and the other leaning against the grand fireplace, both with their backs to the door. Which was the king?

“Your Majesty?” Cassian spoke. “May I present Legolas Greenleaf and Tauriel Firelily, Prince and Princess of Eryn Galen? Legolas, Tauriel? His majesty, King Erestor has declared you both his heirs and has stated his desire to claim you as his children.” The guard bowed and took a position at the open balcony door.

“Erestor? But…?” Legolas was confused. Erestor was his mother’s cousin, how could he claim Legolas as son? Add to this, he was a scholar not a warrior, how could he be the new king? How could he have bested Thranduil?

“Legolas, Tauriel, come, sit, allow me to explain.” Erestor said. He gestured to a pair of settees near the fireplace. Glorfindel crossed the room to Erestor’s side and offering his hand, he smiled at his husband. The two then sat and made themselves as comfortable as it was possible in such a formal space.

Legolas and Tauriel joined them and sat on the other settee. Tauriel nervously picked at the hem of her tunic, feeling very out of place in her soiled patrol clothes. Legolas sat and attempted to make sense of everything.

“This is slightly complicated, so please be patient with me. I’m going to start back in Rivendell with the arrival of Thorin Oakenshield and Company.”

Legolas drew in a sharp breath, his dream, the one that he was certain was from Irmo? There was a dwarf in that, called Oakenshield, the leader of the dwarrow… that was where he’d heard the name Fíli before… but a prince? Thranduil had travelling royal thrown in the dungeons? Oh, that wasn’t good.

“They came into Rivendell from both the hidden path and the front gates. They were being hunted by-” Erestor told of the arrival of Thorin and his Company, their stay and subsequent departure. He told of Posy’s reaction to their departure and of plans made and altered. He told of plans to help her, of Estel’s plans, of Gilraen’s plans, of Glorfindel’s plans and how all of these were altered. He told of the rangers finding a second group of hobbits and their arrival in Rivendell, he told of the hobbits’ fears about Posy and their frustration at being a day’s travel behind her. He told of Galadriel’s vision, of new plans made and of actions taken.

And lastly Glorfindel told of their arrival in Eryn Galen, of Thranduil’s declaration and of Erestor issuing a challenge. He gave them a detailed description of the challenge itself and of Erestor’s offer to Thranduil.

Quietly, Erestor added the added the final details and sat back. He looked at Legolas and Tauriel, giving them time to absorb all their were told, to think through the information and of any questions they may want to ask. Glorfindel poured the four of them tea and handed the others plates to fill with the delicious looking sweets brought in for them.

“Erestor? You’re my mother’s cousin, how can you be my father, now? Doesn’t that go against some law somewhere?” Legolas asked, his voice strained.

“It would, if you were the son of my body, but… adoption is a different scenario altogether. Adoption…? As long as you are younger than me, I can declare you my heirs. If you **_aren’t_** my siblings and **_are_** younger than I, I **_can_** adopt you, but as you are both adults, I will require your consent to do so and I hope that you will give it.” He smiled at the pair of younger elves. “Legolas, with Thranduil’s declaration, I am the closest family you have, I would not see you lost and so… I could not stand by and watch him discard you and all that you can be. I could not.” He sighed. “This is the main reason I challenged him, there were other considerations, not nearly as important, but they were valid.”

He sat back and lifter his cup, drinking the tea he watched the blonde prince. There was much that had yet to be said, but rushing the telling would only cause problems later.

“In the Rivendell suite, right now, are a group of people I think you should meet, Legolas. Thorin Oakenshield and his Company are-”

“I know that name. I dreamt of his coming. He and his Company. Twice? Two different dreams. Why would I dream about him?” Legolas interrupted Erestor’s speech.

A new voice entered the room.

“Because you needed to.”

All six elves spun to face the door, the unnamed elf that had stayed near the window pulled daggers from his sleeves as he spun, none of them had heard the door open or the small being enter.

“What? Why?” Legolas asked again.

“Tell me what you dreamt, Legolas and I will tell you why. You have my word… as a burglar.” The little person smiled slightly, a bare twitching of the lips.

“And a **_burglar_** is honest?” Tauriel, startled.

“Yes.” Was all the little person said.

“Tell him, Legolas, Bilbo is not what he seems. Tell him. Please?” Erestor encouraged. It was a request not an order.

Legolas looked at the elf who was now his king **_and_** his father… he sighed, a relationship had to start somewhere and this was as good a place as any.

“Very well. The night seemed no different than any other, I dined with my patrol… and Cassian, we were all hoping that the healers would allow him to return to duty, but it was not to be. We dined and talked, but I left them early and retired to my chambers… for some reason I felt drained, but we had done nothing that could have left me in such a state. I slept and dreamt. It started as many of my dreams do – the starting of a patrol. From there it changed…” Legolas told the one Erestor called Bilbo of both dreams. Then he told of Thranduil’s reactions and the actions he and his patrol had decided they would take.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that. Alright… firstly? I am Bilbo Baggins. Yes that Bilbo, the one that found what the Nine Walkers were sent to destroy. **_NO!_** Do not speak it. Do not say it… Thank you. The Nine Walkers won’t be called for eighty years, Legolas. Eighty years from now.”

“Eighty? But you are here, now.” Legolas stated.

“I am. But, Legolas, I was there, too, as a **_very_** old hobbit. Afterwards, I was given the greatest honour a non-elf can receive. I Sailed West with Galadriel and Elrond… I and the one who bore **_it_** , my nephew, the son of my heart.”

“Frodo Baggins.” Legolas whispered.

“Yes. Frodo and I went to Valinor. I am sorry to say that we found no rest, no peace. Oh, physically we recovered… or as much as we are ever going to. But we found no peace. Neither of us. And… bluntly we found Valinor boring. This is no slight against Valinor.” Bilbo said when he saw the tension suddenly erupt in Legolas’ muscles. “No, no slight at all. Merely a reminder that hobbits are not meant for Valinor. Most hobbits are meant for Yavanna’s Gardens. **_Most_**. Not me… and now that Frodo has accepted that he is _[Hûn Gwaedhe](Heart%20Bonded)_  with a dwarf… he and I will join those we Bond with, in the Halls of Mahal, ah… Aulë, that is.” He shook his head. “But I digress. Frodo and I Sailed West, but found no peace, no rest. Tulkas, Irmo and Manwë come to us and we spoke of our regrets… to be honest, when they said regrets had no place in Valinor, I wasn’t very polite.” He snorted at the memory. “We had no idea who they were and they introduced themselves as Rien, Kas and Manni, not Lorien Irmo, Tulkas and Manwë.”

The hobbit joined made his way towards them as he spoke, he pulled a cushion from a chair as he went past and after dropping it on the floor, sat on it. He poured himself a cup of tea and sipped it as he continued.

“We talked of our regrets and what we would do if we’d known then what we know now. Tulkas summarised what we’d hashed out. ‘Starting at Bag End, the 1st of April 2941. A few days before Samwise arrives, before Meriadoc and Peregrin arrive. The five of you can shift into a Pine Marten, an Owl, a Hawk, a Wolf, a Lynx and five Wargs’, he said. We agreed. Rien asked how we felt about starting the next day. We thought it a joke and said the next day was fine. He then told us to get a good night’s sleep. ‘You’re going to need it,’ Tulkas assured us. And Manwë said they would leave us to say our farewells… It came as a shock to have Elladan and Elrohir tell us exactly who we’d been talking to.” He laughed.

“I can imagine.” Glorfindel murmured, he knew well the pranks of the Valar.

“Yes. We spoke with Elrond first, then Gandalf and finally Galadriel. We decided that as the Valar were Returning us to just before the beginning of April this year, almost four weeks before Gandalf was to knock on my door with thirteen dwarrow, to conscript me into an adventure, that we would join them on their quest to reclaim Erebor. **_Stop_**. Please stop. Legolas, Tauriel. I’ve been through this before… the reclaiming of Erebor, that is. We succeeded. Yes, there were lives lost, elf, Man and dwarrow. But more lives were lost to the army of Orcs than to Smaug and the reclaiming of the mountain.”

“Army of Orcs?” The unnamed elf asked.

“Yes, Vandir.” Bilbo replied. “Orcs. Azog the Defiler has been hunting Thorin for… well… for months… we think. Certainly since the before we reached Rivendell, why do you think we came in from the hidden path? Elrond and the White Council knew this, we told them and the Valar, but they all agreed, we should do things in the same order as the ‘other’ quest. I’ve taken to thinking of it as ‘the other timeline’, I know it’s not, but it makes it easier to deal with. We’ll reclaim the mountain, then we’ll deal with ‘it’.”

“Will Frodo be taking it there… again?”

“No, not **_Frodo_** … but **_I_** will be.”

“You? But-”

“Yes, me. **_I_** was the one to find the damned thing. **_I_** was the one that used it for weeks on end… here in this palace, I crept around the dungeons looking for the dwarrow before I stole them from Thranduil. **_I_** used it in the battle against the Orcs and **_I_** took it back to the Shire with me. I often used it to avoid unwelcome relatives… at least until Frodo came to live with me. After that it sat in my pocket for years without use. All up, I kept it for **_sixty_** years, before I left the Shire, leaving my smial, my title and **_‘it’_** for Frodo. It wasn’t until he brought it to Rivendell, twenty years later, that I was told exactly what it was.”

“You carried and used it for sixty years… and **_you didn’t know what it was?!”_** Legolas nearly screamed.

“Who was going to tell me, Legolas? I hadn’t told anyone I had the thing, how could anyone tell me what it was? Even after I left it for Frodo, it took Gandalf twenty years to figure out what it was.” Bilbo chided gently.

“Where is it now?” Legolas did a very good imitation of a Dwarroven growl.

“Here.”

**_“What?!”_ **

“Steady on. I’ve taken precautions, it can’t be used.” The hobbit assured him.

“What? What do you mean?”

“It’s dormant right now and treated in such a way that it can’t be used. Come to my room later and I’ll show you. It can be held in your hand and you’ll not touch it. I may have only had a few months to think on this, but what I’ve done? Well… Thranduil stripped us of **_all_** our possessions and he **_still_** missed it.” Bilbo grinned.

“Really? **_Elros_** missed it?” Legolas’ eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Yep.” Bilbo replied.

“Any idea what they’re talking about Erestor? Tauriel?” Glorfindel asked quietly.

“No…” Erestor answered.

“Not here either.” Tauriel added.

“It doesn’t matter for the moment. We have a dragon to kill, first and then an army of Orcs to defeat. One thing at a time, my dear elf, one thing at a time.” The hobbit reached out a small hand plucked a fruit scone from the table, as he patted Legolas’ fingers with his other hand.

Legolas and Bilbo looked at each other steadily for a few minutes, completely ignoring the other five elves. Finally, they seemed to reach some sort of understanding.

“Alright then, Bilbo. Dragons first. What’s your plan for killing the beast? Same again?” The elf prince asked.

“Bard, yes, of course. But not at Laketown this time, this time I want Bard either on the highest building in Dale or on a ridge to the east of the Gates of Erebor.”

“How did he kill the beast? Was it really a Black Arrow… like my dream showed?”

“It was.” Bilbo began to giggle. “Three of the dwarrow stayed in Laketown with one of our injured, when the rest of the Company left for the Mountain, they were there when the dragon left Erebor. The healer swears by this and as unbelievable as it was, I asked Bard himself, later and he agreed… Óin swears that when Bard’s youngest asked if the dragon was going to kill them? Bard reach up and pulled a Black Arrow out of the beams of his kitchen… he’d been using it as a drying rack for herbs! Herbs, Legolas.” Bilbo continued to chuckle at the look of mirth in the blonde elf’s eyes at this information.

“Ah… pardon my interruption, Master Bilbo… but you mentioned Black Arrows? What is the significance of these?” Cassian spoke.

“Black Arrows are forged out of a particularly dense metal, a falling star, Thorin thinks. They are the only arrows that can pierce dragon-hide and there were only ever a dozen made, according to Durin family legends.”

“Ah, then we may be able to help a little more. Due to my injuries I have been removed from patrol duty and the Commander of the Guard, Elros… well, we had a slight falling out and he assigned me to do an inventory of the armoury. There are three black arrows, I don’t know whether they are the same sort of Black Arrow as you’re talking of… but perhaps Prince Thorin may know?”

“I have no idea, but it’s certainly something to look into, Cassian, thank you.” The hobbit turned to Legolas and grinned. “How would you and Tauriel feel about going for a ride tomorrow and bringing Bard back here? He’s the one we need to convince, if we can get him to agree, then most of Laketown will follow… well, all but the Master and his flunkies.”

Legolas smirked and Tauriel groaned.

“What? What am I missing?” The hobbit looked between the two elves even as Cassian smothered a snicker.

“Bard the bargeman seems to get a little tongue-tied around Tauriel.” Legolas’ smirk became a grin.

“Oh… Is that going to be an issue, do you think?” Bilbo blinked in surprise.

“No.” Said Tauriel. “It’s just frustrating. He talks to Legolas or Cassian with no problems, but the moment he realises that I’m there…? He can barely string two words together, without stammering. It’s annoying.” The new princess frowned.

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with our plans and doesn’t upset you, I wouldn’t worry about it too much, my dear.” Bilbo shared an amused look with Legolas. “But for now? Are you ready for a boisterous time that an afternoon with hobbits and dwarrow will surely be?”

“I am. I owe Fíli a rematch.” Glorfindel said.

“As long as that’s knives and not dice, ‘fin. Kíli warned me that Fíli’s dice are weighted.” Erestor informed them.

“Nah. Neither. We’re betting on who’s closest to the number of times Dwalin checks out his One for the evening.”

“Oh, that’s different. Um… 12, no, 13… ah, what time frame? Evening, you said, from when to when?”

“Ah… uh… dinner to supper? We didn’t actually have a time planned, but that sounds alright. Doesn’t it?”

“Dinner to supper? Hmm… 9 times, tell Fíli to put me down for 9.” Erestor said after careful thought.

As the balrog slayer and the king spoke they rose to their feet and made a steady pace to the suite’s door, Cassian hurrying to open it for them. The pair nodded to the guard and ambled their way down the hall to the Rivendell suite, the other elves and the hobbit following in their wake.

The guard opened the door and stepped back, again allowing the royal couple to enter first, allowing the hobbit and the other elves to precede him.

“Legolas!” The cry came from four hobbits.

The four were up, out of their seats, heading for the elf-prince and before the poor lad could brace himself, he was mobbed by them. They hit the ground, but that didn’t stop the chattering and crying, each of the hobbits trying to get a hold of the elf. They acted as if he were one of their best friends that they hadn’t seen for decades, when in fact for the hobbits, it was only a matter of months since they’d parted from the elf.

Bilbo let them go on, he wasn’t worried about their actions. He simply crossed to Fíli and Kíli’s sides, patted Estel’s shoulder and slung an arm around Posy as he leant into Kíli’s arm.

“Should I be worried, Bilbo?” Frerin asked cautiously, from across the table.

“Nah, Legolas is to Frodo, pretty much the same as Dwalin is to Thorin – better at some things, but worse at others and a good enough friend that no one hesitates to tease.”

“Well… alright then. Are we going to get an introduction?”

“Oh, I suppose so.” Bilbo grumbled. “Alright you lot, listen up.” When he had the attention of the dwarrow he continued. “This is Tauriel Firelily, the new Princess of Eryn Galen, her weapons of choice are bow and a pair of Long Mughal Daggers. And that lump under our hobbits is Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Eryn Galen, he uses much the same weapons as Tauriel, although his blades are a fraction longer… **_and_** … as you can see Frodo and the lads are glad to see him. I told you lot that Frodo was permitted to Sail West for his actions in correcting one of my mistakes? Well, Legolas was one of those that helped him fix it. No, Thorin, I’m not going into details, now, after Erebor is secured, we’ll tell the whole thing, but not now, it’s just too complicated.” He waved Thorin’s objection away.

“Legolas received Dreams from Irmo, so he should know who each of us are, but for Tauriel’s information, here goes. As I introduce you, please say ‘hello’. Alright, let’s begin.” He took a deep breath and started. “Thorin Oakenshield, current King-in-Exile of Durin’s Folk. Thorin’s weapons of choice are Orcrist and a Battle Axe.” He paused while Thorin to greeted the she-elf.

“Next is Frerin, he’s Thorin’s brother and a Prince of the Line of Durin, he’s an archer and the newly gifted recipient of Glorfindel’s Mughal daggers ‘Anwar’ and ‘Astar’. He’s also Frodo’s [_hûn gwaedhe_ ](Heart%20Bonded)and Frodo has accepted his Courtship.” Another pause. “Fíli and Kíli are Thorin and Frerin’s sister-sons, their nephews. Fíli is Thorin’s primary heir and he prefers dual falchions and throwing axes. Kíli is another archer and when forced to put his bow away, he uses a single Dwarroven short-sword. He and I are also _[hûn gwaedhe](Heart%20Bonded)_  and are likewise Courting.” As he said their names, Fíli and Kíli bowed to the elf, smiling. Bilbo kept going, introducing the dwarrow and the hobbits and detailing what he knew of their weapons and skills.

Over the next few hours, the elves, the dwarrow and the hobbits settled down and chatted, they made plans and fenced ideas. Not long after dark, elven kitchen-staff brought in platter after platter of food, roasted meats, vegetables in thick sauces, bread rolls, cheeses, roasted vegetables, salads and grilled fish. These were washed down with wines and ales carried in by the cellar-master’s staff.

As Thorin, Bilbo and Dori gently chivvied dwarrow and hobbits – and Estel, off to bed, Legolas spent a few minutes with his new family, a sister, a father and a _[Adár-benn](Step-father)_. Not just that… they **_wanted_** to be his family, Tauriel had been at his side for decades, Thranduil had misjudged the direction of their affections and feared a love-match, when in truth they saw the other as the closest either had to a sibling. Erestor was known to Legolas through his mother, they corresponded on a regular basis, maybe not yearly, but a few times a decade, at the least. Having the scholar claim him as heir was understandable, to have him want to claim Legolas as son? It gave the blonde elf a sense of peace and warmth he hadn’t felt since his mother had Sailed West. The balrog slayer stating that he too, wanted to claim Legolas and Tauriel as _[hênn-i dîr hûn](children%20of%20his%20heart)_ , rendered both Legolas and Tauriel speechless.

A figure out of history and he wanted them as children? Watching Glorfindel that evening had been eye-opening, he chatted and sang with hobbits, tossed food and plates with the dwarrow and teased his husband. By the time the last dwarf – Dwalin, was lead away by Thorin, Glorfindel was leaning against his husband with a silly grin on his face, just watching as Legolas pulled Tauriel to her feet, slinging one of her arms over his shoulder. She wasn’t nearly as drunk as Glorfindel, but she’d had far more to drink, than Erestor and Legolas.

“Our children - hic.” Glorfindel purred. “Look ‘tor, we have – hic- children, beautiful children.” He kept mumbling about their beautiful, talented children as Erestor lead him away.

Legolas got Tauriel out through the suite door and began the long walk to get her to her quarters.

“Prince Legolas?” Cassian caught him before he’d got more than a few feet.

“Yes, Cassian? Give us a hand will you? Taur’s had way to much ale.”

“Of course, but… King Erestor had a suite made ready for Tauriel, she’s a Princess, now, not just a soldier, anymore. She should have accommodation to match, he said. The domestic staff have prepared the suite next to yours for her and have added a wardrobe of clothes suitable for a Princess. I suggested that she be given the chance to supervise the removal of her personal possessions, herself – you and I both know she’s got things hidden that staff wouldn’t find.” The guard slung Tauriel’s other arm over his shoulder and the three began to stagger down the hall.

“Oh… ah, good idea. Cassian?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you still here, haven’t you finished for the day? I mean, your duties?”

“Ah. Well, yes and no. I’m no longer a patrol guard, Erestor made me his Commander of the Guard. Silly, but there it is. I’m not comfortable with that, so I made a few suggestions, actually they were your suggestions and now Terien is Administrator of the Guard and I’m still Commander, but I pretty much get to choose what I do and I’ve chosen the royal family. Wherever you and Tauriel go, I go. Not to protect you, we all know that either of you can best me with no difficulty. No, that’s not it at all, I’m there as a subtle reminder to whoever, that you two are Prince and Princess of Eryn Galen.”

“But-”

“But nothing, **_Highness_**. I’ve seen the way some of the Men from Laketown disregard you and that’s going **_stop_**. You’re the Prince of Eryn Galen and a skilled warrior and they treat you like little more than a **_child_**. I will **_not_** tolerate this any longer.” The other elf was adamant.

“Alright, [_mellon nin_ ,](my%20friend) alright, _[ná-na îdh](be%20at%20ease)_. This suite?” When Cassian nodded. “Well, get the door then, I can’t manage Taur and the door.”

They got Tauriel into the suite and found the right door for the bedchamber, Cassian left Legolas to help his new sister onto her bed while he wrote a note which he pinned to the door of the bedroom at eye-height. Legolas raised an eyebrow at the dagger used to hold the message.

“It’s her dagger, highness. It-”

“Cassian. I’m not doing this again. In public you can call me ‘highness’, but not in private. I don’t like it and I won’t respond.” Legolas grumbled.

“Just making a point, Legolas. The note is to let her know she’s supposed to be here and there’s clothes here, behind one of those other doors, no idea which one, though, and that at a later point she can collect everything else. Also hobbits have first breakfast early, she doesn’t have to show up for that one, but second breakfast is at nine and everyone **_will_** be there, Bilbo insists on it.”

“Right… Talking of Bilbo? I need to see him tonight.”

“Yes, I remember. The dwarrow are in the Erebor suite, like you’d expect, but we weren’t sure where to put the hobbits, so for now, we’ve put them in the Istari’s suite while we have hobbit-sized furniture made to go in the suite beside the dwarrow’s.”

“Good. You have absolutely no idea just how much we owe those five hobbits.” Legolas paused at a door etched with the Two Trees of Valinor. “Are all the hobbits in the one suite?”

“Yes. Bilbo’s put Rorimac and Ferumbras in Saruman’s room, Merry and Pippin in Alatar’s room, Frodo and Sam in Mithrandir’s and he, Estel and Posy are in Pallando’s. Radagast’s has been shut and left alone. It still smells like those horrid mushrooms. Ugh.”

“Which one is Pallando’s room?” Legolas asked quietly as he turned the ornate doorhandle.

“The darker blue door to the right of the balcony.” He was told.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll wait here, shall I?” Cassian didn’t wait for an answer, he picked out a pear from a fruit baskets on a side table, sat himself down in front of the fire place and proceeded to slices pieces from it.

“Thanks, Cassian.” Legolas tapped gently on the right door, he only had to wait a few seconds and Bilbo was easing the door open for him to slip inside.

“Legolas, thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for offering.”

The two looked at each other before they both sighed.

“Come and sit and I’ll answer what questions I can.” Bilbo offered and gestured at a pair of Man-sized chairs under the window.

“Again, thank you. You said it was here. What do you mean by **_here_**?” The elf asked.

Instead of answering Bilbo reached down to the cuff of his trousers and removed a double-sided button, he put it flat on the small end table between the two chairs.

“Bilbo?”

Bilbo nodded to the button.

“There it is.”

“What?” Legolas’ eyes widened. “That’s… that’s…?”

“That’s Sauron’s One Ring? Yes, it is.”

 ** _“What did you do to it?”_** Legolas screamed almost silently.

“I made it unusable. But more than that… I listened to Sam and Frodo when they talked about their time walking after they left you and the other Walkers. Whenever _[i Hend](the%20Eye)_ looked for them, Sam would hide Frodo behind a rock or a pile of earth or a gully. I spent the days after owe left Rivendell thinking about this and trying to subtly quiz Thorin, Bofur and Bifur about the different mineral properties of each type of rock and soil and in the end I decided that both steel or iron would the same protection. So when we got to Beorn’s and Thorin asked for the use of his forge? I decided that I could do the same. I wanted something completely forgettable. Forgettable, but something that I could keep on me at all times. Loosing buttons from my waistcoat in the tunnels under Goblintown in the Misty Mountains made me wonder if I could hide the [_Mîn_ _Corf_ i](One%20Ring)n a button. Then there was the issue of what type of button and what size, etcetera.” Bilbo lent over removed the other buttons from the cuffs of both legs of his trousers.

“I ended up making ten cuff-buttons and-”

“What’s a cuff-button?”

“All I can say is… these are cuff-buttons. It’s a cross between a cufflink and a button. It’s used for particularly heavy use clothing **_or_** for very fine fabrics, for where the buttons outlast that fabric or the fabric needs careful attention in laundering. The buttons can be removed from the garment completely, leaving nothing that can damage delicate fabric or can be used on another garment if the fabric’s worn out.”

“Right… and you made them? Why?”

“I wear them on my trousers, when we leave here, I’ll wear greaves over them, so they will be completely hidden. When Thranduil’s captain, stripped us… why would anyone take buttons? They took my weapons, my armour, but they left my clothes. And that’s all I needed them to.”

“Fair enough. And what about after? Once Erebor is dragon-free? What then?” Legolas asked.

“After Erebor is reclaimed, there’ll be a small group going south. Ostensibly for trade talks, with Rohan, with Gondor, maybe even Dol Amroth. It won’t be the whole Company, though. Most likely it will be myself and Kíli, Frodo and Frerin, Merry, Pippin, Posy and Sam. Other than them? It’s a little uncertain. I know that the lads want you to come with us. And-”

“The Man? Aragorn? You said the Walkers weren’t called for, for eighty years, so there’s no chance of the Man joining us is there?”

Bilbo giggled quietly.

“What?” Legolas couldn’t see anything funny about the question.

“Oh, Legolas, Legolas, Legolas. What do you remember from your dreams, about Aragorn?”

“He was a ranger from the north, the last chieftain of the Dúnedain, a descendant of Numenor. He’s a hunter, an archer, a tracker. He becomes King of Gondor. And he’s got the most appalling task in jokes.”

“Jokes? Right… I’m not going to ask about that. Back to the Dúnedain. What stands out about them?” Bilbo wasn’t going to tell Legolas, he was going to make him figure it out for himself.

“The Dúnedain? Um… They’re the descendants of Numenor. They created the kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor. I… I don’t know much else about them.”

“Alright. And what’s so special about the Men of Numenor?”

“Um… um… Oh! They were long lived! The lived about three times as long as other Men…” The elf trailed off.

“Good. Now, where did Aragorn grow up?”

“Rivendell. He was the foster son of Elrond… I think.”

“Yes, good. And how many children of Men do you know of, that grew up in Rivendell?”

“Just Aragorn… oh, but the boy with you? Estel? What about him?”

“Legolas, stop and think… about what we’ve told you about Estel and about what we’ve just talked about.” With that Bilbo got to his feet and checked on the two sleeping younglings and left the prince to think quietly.

It only took a few minutes and Legolas sat up straight, shock painting his face.

“Aragorn. Estel. They’re the same person. Bilbo, tell me I’m wrong, _**please**_ tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you didn’t bring the future king of Gondor on a quest to kill a dragon. _**Please**_.” The prince was almost frantic as he fell to his knees in front of the hobbit.

“Sorry. Can’t do that.” Was all Bilbo said.

 _“[Oh melui Nienna ne-menel,](Oh%20sweet%20Nienna%20in%20heaven) [oh Erú gar-mîl.](oh%20Er%C3%BA%20have%20mercy%20) **What** _ in the name of the [_Pân-Adar_ ](All-Father)were you **_thinking_**?”

“Well, we didn’t plan on it. He stole a Fading Posy right out from under Elrond’s nose and brought her to me. With her family dead, she had begun to Fade… until I was asked to take her to Elrond for healing, the hobbit healers thought she had retreated inside her own mind, but in truth, she was Fading. When I became her guardian, she started to improve, but it wasn’t until Rivendell that she decided to live again, then I had to go and mess that up by leaving her in Rivendell. She began to Fade again, but there were people that realised what she was going through and they made plans… they just didn’t take into account Estel – Aragorn – had made plans of his own. The others decided that his plans were more suitable than theirs and so Estel and Posy were taken by horseback to the foothills and from there they walked. They-”

 ** _“Where in the name of all that’s good, were his parents?”_** Legolas was back to screaming quietly.

“His father is dead, six years ago. His father was brave, but he refuse to take chances, he swore that the crown was a curse on his family and he wanted no part of it. He did what he could to influence his very young son to think the same way. Estel helping Posy, **_saving_** her, was the first time that Estel cast off his father’s thinking and did the right thing. As for his mother? Gilraen wants her son to grow to be a king among Men, whether he takes the crown or not. When Elladan and Elrohir caught Estel in the act of stealing Posy away, they conferred with Gilraen and plans changed. Estel’s only slightly, but Gilraen's had to change a fair bit. But if it makes you feel any better, Erestor and Glorfindel said that Elladan and Elrohir were only a few minutes behind Estel and Posy… until Galadriel told them that Estel and Posy would meet no dangers before they caught up with us and called them back.”

“But they’re _**children**_ , Bilbo.”

“Yes, Estel is a child and technically Posy is too, but Posy’s had some pretty specialised training.”

“Training? Is that what Cassian was talking about earlier? Ferumbras wants Rorimac to train her and you want Sam? Is that the training you’re talking about?” Legolas asked.

“Yes. This goes no further, Legolas, only the Company, the hobbits, Erestor, Glorfindel, Elrond, Gilraen, Galadriel and Vandir know about this.” Bilbo’s voice became hard and serious. “You may tell Tauriel… and Cassian… but no one else, not even Gandalf. Am I clear?” Bilbo let just a little bit of his warg out in the timbre of his voice.

“Crystal clear.” Legolas said very quickly.

“Good, lad. Rorimac, Ferumbras and Sam are Underhills. Trying to describe what an Underhill is, is very hard, the closest is that they are the assassins of the Shire, but even that’s not quite right. The Bounders protect our boundaries, the Shirrifs keep the peace, but if someone from outside the Shire breaks that peace? The Underhills take action and their action is final. They are merciless so the rest of the Shire can be gentle. If an Underhill has to step in, someone, usually the person responsible, dies… quickly, quietly and with no warning or chance of reprieve.”

“And Posy’s to be trained as an Underhill? Is that fair to her?”

“She’s already completed most of her training, her mother trained her until she drowned, but what’s left is possibly the most dangerous, to her and those around her… herbs – poisons, potions and balms. Which is why I want Sam, Rorimac is good, but Sam’s a Plant Healer, that’s his gift from the Valar. He can teach her far more than Rorimac can.”

“What sort of training has she had?”

“I don’t know, Legolas, I’m not an Underhill so I can’t tell you. If you want to know, you’re going to have to approach Ferumbras, he’s the zîrant’s successor, his heir if you like, he’s the only one here that has the authority to tell you anything more… But right now? It’s late, Legolas and you’ve had a stressful day. Off to bed with you and get some sleep. Tomorrow, you and Tauriel have to fetch a stammering Bard. We have more plans to make. Off you go, now.” Bilbo gently, but firmly bullied Legolas out his door and waved Cassian over.

“Take him away and see he gets to bed and the same for you. We’ll need both of you rested for the morrow. Away with you.”

Cassian bowed to the hobbit and grabbed Prince by the arm and literally dragged him out the door.

 

 

NOTE: Mughal daggers – if you google Mughal daggers, the Wikipedia page has a image of a dagger that is remarkably similar to those of Legolas and Tauriel, but it has a slightly shorter hilt and blade and a different pommel. It’s the closest semi-modern equivalent I could find.

Khuzdul = (K)                       Quenyan = (Q)          Green Tongue (G)     Sindarin (S)

 

Beriatá = Protector (S)

 _hûn gwaedhe_ = Heart Bonded (S)

 _Adár-benn_ = step-father (lit trans = father’s husband) (S)

 _Hênn-i dîr hûn_ = children of his heart (S)

 _mellon nin_ = my friend

 _na-na îdh_ = be at ease (lit trans = to be at rest) (S)

 _i Hend_ = the Eye (S)

 _i Mîn Corf =_ the One Ring

 _Oh melui Nienna ne-menel_ = oh sweet Nienna in heaven(S)

 _oh Erú gar-mîl_ = Erú have mercy (lit trans = Erú have kindness) (S)

Pân-Adar = All Father (= Erú)


End file.
